


we'll be alright

by bravestyles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Desert Island, Desert Island Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Multi, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Polygamy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stranded, Threesome - M/M/M, minor descriptions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:41:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22233481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravestyles/pseuds/bravestyles
Summary: He stares at the water for a few minutes, thinking,why are you trapping us here? Why are you doing this to us? You're the only thing separating me from my family. After that, he turns to look at the island, and Harry nearly cries with relief at what he sees.There's fruit. A lot of it. Mangoes, bananas, coconuts, a few other fruity looking things he doesn't recognize. And there's a lot of colors, too. Trees and flowers everywhere. At least they're not trapped somewhere terrible. This feels like they're being given at least a chance.or,Niall, Louis and Harry get stranded on a desert island.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Harry Styles, Niall Horan/Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 21
Kudos: 154





	we'll be alright

**Author's Note:**

> title: fine line- harry styles

As soon as they're in the water, Harry's survival instincts finally kick in. 

On the plane, when it started going down and they all knew it, Harry had been frozen with fear. He couldn't do anything other than absolutely nothing, because there was so much chaos all at once -- Louis pulling him close to his chest as he jumped up and told the other boys to come closer, Zayn shouting something Harry couldn't make out, their team members telling them all to sit down and buckle up, Liam screaming,  _ we're headed straight for the bloody water, what good is there in us being buckled? _ \-- that he couldn't keep up. He couldn't process it. The only thing, the  _ only _ thing, that he managed to do right was cling onto Louis with everything he had, because as soon as Harry gets his head above water, Louis' a dead weight in his arms and blood is trickling down from a gash on his forehead.

If Harry wasn't holding onto him so tightly, if he had let go for even a fraction of a second, Louis would be sinking towards the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, unconscious and helpless. 

He doesn't know what he's doing, or what he should be doing, but he finds himself swimming away from the biggest part of the plane that's left. It's hard to keep them both afloat with only one arm, but he does the best he can. He swims and he swims, and he doesn't realize he's swimming towards a part of the plane -- maybe part of the wing? He's not sure, and he’s not focusing on that -- that's been blown off until he's right there, gripping it with his fingers. It's both large enough and sturdy enough to support them both. 

It becomes painfully obvious, then, with one arm clinging around Louis' chest and the other holding onto the surface, that getting Louis onto it is going to be difficult. He stays there, legs kicking out frantically underneath him, for at least a few minutes, trying to figure out how he's going to do this, when he hears a panicked shriek of his name behind him. 

It's only then that he remembers the other three boys, and immediately, his whole body goes hot with worry. 

Harry turns around quickly, his chest heaving, to see Niall frantically swimming over to them. He's a few yards away -- Harry didn't realize how far he swam; he can barely see what's left of the plane anymore -- and Harry just watches him, scared, because he's not willing to let go of Louis or this piece of debris, even for Niall. Harry's not going to be able to hold up Louis for forever, he knows that. 

Niall gets to them quickly, and when he's close enough, Harry can't help but reach out to him. He grabs Niall's shirt and yanks him closer, which just makes Niall lurch forward and go under water for a second, but then he's right there, and his hands are on Louis, helping Harry hold him up. 

"What the hell happened to him?" Niall asks, breathless. His legs are kicking out just as hurried as Harry's are, and he kicks Harry on accident. Neither of them even process it. 

"I don't know, I don't -- I don't know, I -- " he closes his mouth once he realizes that's all he can say. His hand is back on the part of the plane now, and his legs are so, so tired. "Where are the others? Where are -- Zayn and Liam, where are they?"

"I couldn't find them," Niall tells him, eyes wide with fear. "I couldn't find anyone, I was -- God, he's bleeding pretty bad."

Harry finally looks closer at the cut on Louis' head, and Niall's right. The wound is gushing blood still, to the point that Louis' entire face is covered. Harry wonders how long it's been like that. 

"We need to get him up here," Harry says. "I can't -- I need help getting him up."

With Niall's help, it's not actually all that difficult; Louis is light and they're both filled with adrenaline, and soon enough, Louis' laying on the debris. With the way he's curled up a little, he's feet are only a few inches from the edge, so there's no way Harry's legs will fit. It's not as big as Harry thought, and it's definitely not going to fit all three of them. Harry makes an easy decision, then, to let Niall get on first. Harry has longer legs and is more athletic than Niall, so he'll hopefully be able to keep kicking for a little while longer. 

When then first get most of Niall's weight on it, it goes sideways, and immediately Harry is letting go of Niall's waist and lunging for Louis. Niall does the same, and after they get Louis steady on the wreckage of the plane, they attempt it again. This time, it goes smoother, and Harry holds it as still as he can as Niall cautiously moves Louis so that Louis' splayed out over Niall's legs. He's more protected that way, and Niall has better access to his head.

"Here," Harry murmurs belatedly, handing Niall his headband. They need  _ something  _ to stop the bleeding. Niall grabs it quickly and uses it to wipe off the worst of the blood of Louis' face before pressing it over the wound. Harry watches him intently as he dabs at it a few minutes later, and he catches the way Niall winces when he lifts of the headband. 

"What?" Harry demands. He uses the edge of their make-shift raft -- can you even call it that? -- to lift himself up a little to try and see better, which is a bad idea, because it immediately causes the raft to tilt. He stops doing it immediately, and once it's steady again, Niall looks over at him. 

"It looks deep," is all he says before turning Louis' face to Harry. And it does; the cut on Louis' face that goes from the left edge of his hairline to near the center of his forehead is deep, and Harry barely has a chance to look at it before it's welling up with blood again. 

"Shit," he says. He's even more scared, now. This is all too much. 

His legs are burning like mad. He wishes they would stop doing that. 

Harry looks over his shoulder to try and see something, anything. He can't hear or see any people. The rest of the plane is almost impossible to see now; extremely late, Harry releases they're drifting, that the wind is decently strong right now and is pushing them a certain direction. Away from Zayn and Liam, possibly. 

"I should go back," Harry says, still looking towards the direction of where the plane fell. "I should -- someone might need help."

Niall's hand darts over to grab at his shoulder, his fingers slipping under Harry's coat like he's trying to keep him there. "You're not going back. Don't be stupid."

"Zayn and Liam might be stuck in the plane. They might need help."

They were towards the front of the plane while Louis and Harry were in the back. They always go in the back, because they don't like the little jokes that the others make about them cuddling and kissing and being stupid. Niall was somewhere in the middle. 

"H, if they're still in the plane, they're dead by now."

Harry's hands grip tighter to the raft. He turns his head to look at Niall and swallows thickly. "Don't say that."

"It's been at least -- what? Ten minutes?"

Harry squints at him. "It can't be that long already." He tries to think, tries to figure out a timeline of his own, but he has no idea. It feels like ten seconds ago they were on the plane, but obviously it's been longer than that. 

His legs feel like they're on fucking fire, though, and he's in pretty good shape. He can run a mile in eight minutes, and he works out every day, so if they're feeling this bad. . . Maybe it's been more than ten minutes. 

"God," Harry hisses after another minute. He's clinging to the raft so hard that his knuckles are white. "My fucking legs. . ."

Niall looks guilty, and before he can open his mouth, Harry shakes his head. "I'm fine."

"We can switch," Niall offers, although he doesn't look like he really means it. 

Harry shakes his head firmly. "I don't want to risk him falling in. I'm fine for now."

After a little while longer, though, Harry's not sure he can take it anymore. He's got his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth clenched tight, and the only thing that keeps his legs moving is the fact that if he stops, he'll weigh down the raft and Niall and Louis could fall in the water. He's mostly keeping up his own weight right now, and he can't stop or else they'll all be in the water. 

Niall must see it, because he strengthens his hold on Harry's jacket. "H," he says, and Harry shakes his head. He's determined. "No, Harry. Seriously. We need to figure out how we're going to do this."

Harry opens his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"We're in the middle of the ocean. It's probably nearing evening. Neither of us can be in the water at night."

Harry's about to ask why, but then he realizes that oh,  _ fuck _ . Sharks. If one of them is just hanging off, kicking their legs wildly, a shark is bound to get tempted. Not to mention that the water will turn ice cold. 

He lets out a loud cry, and he's not sure if it's from anguish or the pain in his legs. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Niall says quietly. "We can figure this out. We can -- "

He leans closer to Harry, and immediately, Harry shakes his head. "Don't, don't, we can't risk him falling in."

"Okay," Niall whispers, leaning back again. "Okay."

Harry wipes at his eyes and tries to think. It doesn't take him long to accept that there is no other choice than them figuring out a way that they can all fit on at once. There's probably some way they can manage it. There has to be, or one of them is going to die, and Harry's not going to let Louis or Niall freeze to death or get eaten by fucking sharks. So basically, he needs to figure out a way to get himself on this raft, or he's dead. 

"There's barely enough room for us to sit side by side," Harry says, trying to work this out. "That's not safe."

"No, it's not," Niall agrees. 

Harry goes silent, trying to figure it out. After a few minutes, he thinks of something that could work, but even trying to see if it would be manageable is dangerous. 

Eventually, they figure it out, and they're all on the raft. Niall's got his arse on the edge of the boat and his legs stretched out so that his feet are hanging off, Harry's sitting on the opposite side and he's got his legs over Niall's, but bent. It's almost like they're making an X. And then Louis' kind of thrown over them, with his back against Harry's chest and his legs thrown on either side of his knees. It's not necessarily realistic -- Harry's back and legs are already straining, Niall can't move all that much and his back is aching, and if a single wave comes at them too strong, they're all done for -- but it'll have to work. They all have to be on here, and their weight has to be evenly balanced; this is the only way Harry knows how to manage both. 

"I should probably get out of the boat, let you stretch your legs a bit," Niall says, and Harry snorts. 

"It's not a boat."

"Yeah, well. A raft, then."

"Barely that, but alright."

Niall sighs and shifts his left leg ever so slightly. It makes Harry nervous, but nothing ends up happening. He relaxes, and then adjusts his arms around Louis' waist. 

"We won't be able to do anything but sit like this at night," Niall says, and Harry hates that he's right. "We can't sleep like this, 'less we went to fall off the boat. Raft. Whatever."

"So we'll have to sleep during the day."

Niall nods. "And until he wakes up, it's going to be difficult, but we'll figure it out."

Harry takes a deep breath, and then they have to move around again. 

By the time Harry's sure it's almost been twenty-four hours, they're both exhausted and Louis' not awake yet. 

Harry managed to get about twenty minutes of sleep today before Niall's legs finally couldn't take it anymore and he had to wake Harry up so he could get back on the raft. At first, Harry was slightly annoyed, but then he saw Niall rubbing at his knee and he thought  _ shit _ . Another fucking obstacle to get around, Niall's bum knee. 

Niall sleeps for about forty minutes, and they trade off again. Harry gets another twenty minutes before he's back in the water. 

It's exhausting, but it's worth it, because by the time the second night rolls around, him and Niall struggle a lot less to stay awake than they did the night before. They ended up talking to each other about the stupidest things in order to stay awake, and Harry’s brain felt numb by the end of it. 

They're on day three when Louis finally wakes up, and Harry's asleep. He has Louis cuddled up to his chest, partly because it makes space on the boat for them both and partly because he needs the comfort, so when Louis jolts awake, Harry wakes, too. 

He tells Louis he has to be careful on instinct, and he hates that they've been here long enough for worrying about the weight balance of the raft to be his first thought. 

Seeing realization dawn on Louis' features is the most heartbreaking thing Harry's ever had to witness. He looks around, looks down at Niall, looks behind him at Harry, and then looks around again. He's realizing it's only them, and that they're in the middle of the goddamn ocean. He gets this indescribable look on his face before he grabs Harry's hand off his hip and squeezes him tightly. 

He doesn't say anything, which makes Harry incredibly nervous. Niall's the first to speak. 

"How's your head?"

"My head -- ?" They watch as he brings his fingers right up to the spot, and he hisses as he touches it. Harry grabs his hand and pulls it away. 

"Don't touch it. It can't get infected."

"What happened to it?"

Harry shrugs. "We don't know. I was -- we were right by each other the entire time, and I don't remember you hitting it. But obviously you did."

"And the others?" 

"No clue," Niall whispers. 

They fall in a tense silence. Niall and Harry have had two and a half days to digest this, and Louis has gotten exactly two minutes. He can't imagine what's going through his head. 

"Imagine the fucking headlines going on right now," Louis says, voice dripping with mockery. "One Direction lost at sea. Jesus _ fucking  _ Christ."

Harry hasn't thought of that. He hasn't thought of anybody else except them five. He won't let himself think about his family or his close friends, because that's too depressing and he needs to stay focused on not dying right now. The rest of the world didn't even occur to him. 

Niall cracks a fake smile, but offers no comment in return. He probably is as wary of Louis' behavior as Harry is. 

"How long has it been?"

"Three days," Harry and Niall answer in unison. 

Louis scoffs loudly. "We're going to fucking  _ die _ ."

"Don't say that," Harry pleads, sitting up as best as he can. He moves so Louis' back is pressed against his chest and lets his legs lay beside Louis'. Both of their feet hang above the water. "We're going to be fine."

"We're in the middle of the  _ ocean _ , Harry!" Louis screams, turning around roughly. The raft moves with him, and he braces himself to fall in, but nothing happens. 

"You have to be careful," Harry whispers, his heart hammering in his chest. "You can't move much on this thing."

"You're delusional," Louis bites back. He turns to look at Niall, his movements slower this time. "We might as well all just jump in now."

Harry flinches. " _ Louis. _ "

" _ What? _ " he snaps, and as anger as he sounds, he sounds a whole thought scared, too. "How have you two been eating? Drinking? Sleeping?" He laughs darkly and puts his head in his hands. "God, I wish I would've hit my head a whole lot harder."

Harry goes to snap something back, but Niall gives him a look that tells him not to. "He's stressed," Niall says quietly, calmly. "He's Louis. His default is anger and sarcasm. Give him a few minutes."

"Fuck you," Louis bites. 

Harry realizes that Niall's right, though, so he doesn't say anything else. Louis is just trying to process this in the only way he can. It's not the way Harry wants him to, but it doesn't matter. He can't tell Louis how to accept this. 

Niall sighs, and Harry's heard that sound enough in the last two and a half days to know that means Niall can't take being in the water anymore. Harry just nods at him before putting his hands around Louis' hips, bracing him. He scoots back a little until he's sure if he does anymore, they'll tip over, and then he puts one leg in the water. 

Louis grabs his arm quickly. "What are you doing?" He sounds scared. Terrified, even. 

"Niall needs a break," Harry says. "Not all of us can fit that well."

"We've been switching off during the day so we have the energy to stay up at night," Niall adds, and Harry nods.

Louis watches them switch off, and Harry hates how scared he looks in the center of the raft. He's got his hands out on either side of him like he's ready to catch himself if anything happens, like he doesn’t think Harry would risk everything to keep him safe. Harry gives him a small smile as Niall comes behind him and slots himself behind Louis' back like Harry was only moments ago.

Harry's legs scream in protest, and his stomach feels hollow, but he ignores both of those. 

"Wait," Louis murmurs, sitting up a little more. He looks down at Harry. "I didn't kiss you yet."

And, well. Harry's heart aches with the want to do that, but he's not going to get them all rearranged again just so he can kiss Louis. He reaches forward to squeeze Louis' hand briefly. "You'll be able to when my legs get tired in about five seconds and I need a break."

Niall snorts, which is odd. Louis waking up has seemed to revive the hope in both of them that has already been lost. "Needs to be a lot longer than that, H. My knee is absolutely killing me." Immediately, Louis sets his hand on top of Niall's hand, frowning. 

"I can go next," Louis offers quietly, and they both immediately shake their heads. "Why not?" he asks, offended. 

Harry sighs. "You just woke up after being unconscious for almost three whole days. And you're the smallest out of the three of us. Me and Niall wouldn't be able to stretch out as much if we were on there together."

"I'm not small," Louis murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. It's obvious he's just saying it because that's something he would've said before. 

Harry just smiles sadly at him and keeps kicking his feet. 

It takes them an entire week (Niall argues it's only been six days, but Harry's positive it's been seven) for them to spot the island. It's off in the distance, barely visible, but they all stare at it the entire day, mouths practically watering at the sight of it. 

They're completely shells of human beings by the time they get to the island the following night. It rained twice, once on the fourth day and once on the sixth, but there's still extremely thirsty. One can only drink so much rain water, and they couldn't figure out a way to store it. Not to mention the fact that they haven't eaten in a  _ week _ . They've completely abandoned their system of one person out of the raft of all times after the third day, because Niall and Harry were only lasting about five minutes before they tapped out. They've spent half of the last week basically laying on top of each other, cramped and tired. 

"Come on, H," Niall says, voice low. Harry's taken the biggest hit out of all them; he  _ was _ the one out of the raft the most often. "It's right there. We just have to walk a little."

"And sharks are going to come eat us if we don't move quickly, so," Louis mumbles. He's worried about Harry, that much is obvious. He's the most well-off out of the three of them, simply due to the fact that he didn't exert any energy those two and a half days he was out. Harry envies it. 

Niall's capable of standing on his own, even with his bum knee, so Harry forces himself to at least  _ try _ . He tries to stand, and as soon as he does, his hips and legs immediately protest and he goes down, so fast that Niall and Louis don't even have the opportunity to try and catch him. They get him up quickly, and as he's choking on water and trying to breathe, Niall and Louis drag him towards the shore.

None of them give a second thought to their little raft that's undoubtedly going to float away. All of them have the same mindset:  _ I'd rather die on this island than take my chance on that thing again.  _

Harry doesn't remember much of the first three days on the island, but he does know that they're spent rehabilitating themselves. Harry does nothing more than lay on the beach, eating and drinking whatever someone brings him, but Niall and Louis actually make themselves useful and do things imminent to their survival. Harry sleeps almost the entire day, while Niall is the one who gets the fruit off trees by shaking them, and Louis has the energy to find a way to get a coconut open and use them to collect rainwater. 

After the third day, Harry feels ready to actually try and move around. He can't lay around forever. 

It's close to the afternoon when he finally decides to get up from his spot under a palm tree, where Niall and Louis dragged him the first night. He successfully stands after a few failed attempts, and after looking around briefly and not seeing Niall or Louis, he walks to the shore, his stiff bones protesting as he goes.

He stares at the water for a few minutes, thinking,  _ why are you trapping us here? Why are you doing this to us? You're the only thing separating me from my family _ . After that, he turns to look at the island, and Harry nearly cries with relief at what he sees. 

There's fruit. A lot of it. Mangoes, bananas, coconuts, a few other fruity looking things he doesn't recognize. And there's a lot of colors, too. Trees and flowers everywhere. At least they're not trapped somewhere terrible. This feels like they're being given at least a chance. 

He's sitting cross-legged by the shore, idly fiddling with some rocks, when he hears the other two talking. It stops abruptly, and then he hears a shout of his name. He turns around to see them staring at him, grins on their faces. Neither of them are wearing anything other than their underwear, and Harry didn't even realize it until now that he isn't, either. 

He waits for Niall and Louis to get closer to them before he says anything. "Where are my clothes?" he asks, and it immediately earns a laugh out of both of them. Harry doesn't understand how they seem so okay when he still feels like he's on death's door. 

"We're doing laundry," Niall explains, and Louis nods as he drops down next to Harry. He wraps an arm around Harry's shoulder and brings him in for a cuddle, dropping a kiss on his head. 

"Promise a monkey didn't steal your clothes while you were asleep."

Harry snorts into Louis' side, but he feels too emotional for it to mean much. He squeezes his eyes and burrows himself closer to Louis. "Are there monkeys here?"

"Don't know, actually," Niall says. He sits down on the other side of Harry and sets a hand on his knee. "Me and Lou have been walking around all week, and we haven't seen one yet, but -- "

"Wait, it's been a week?" Harry asks, pulling away from Louis. He's frowning. He's been out of it, yes, but he's been awake enough to count the days. At least, he thought he had been. 

Louis nods. "Six days today, actually."

Harry does the math in his head, and it doesn't make him feel good. "So it's been thirteen days since the crash, and nobody's come looking for us." He doesn't mean to sound so defeated, but fuck.  _ Fuck _ . It's almost been two weeks. 

"Hey," Louis says quietly. He reaches over to swipe his finger over Harry's jaw. "We're millionaire, international popstars. I'm sure we are a high priority."

"Don't joke," Harry replies weakly. 

Louis frowns. "I'm not joking.  _ Somebody _ has to be looking for us."

Harry nods, even though he's not so sure of it. If it's been two weeks, they're screwed, right? They must be. And everyone else in the world must think that too. The police and rescue teams must be sure their bodies are somewhere at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean by now. 

"I'm thirsty," Harry says, and immediately, both Niall and Louis are on it. Niall helps him stand, even though he says he doesn't need it, while Louis goes over to where the coconuts are lined up to grab Harry some water. As Harry gets closer, he sees that they're burrowed in the sand a bit, probably so they don't get scooped away by the wind. Smart. 

Louis rubs at his back soothingly as he drinks, and Harry can see it in his face that he was really worried about Harry.  _ Good _ , Harry thinks bitterly, because he was just as worried about Louis when he was bleeding and passed out for three days. 

At the thought of that, Harry glances over to see that the cut still looks angry. It's not covered -- there wouldn't be anything clean enough to cover it, would there -- but it's not bleeding anymore, so that's good. Harry can't remember when the bleeding stopped completely on the raft, but it had taken at least a few days. 

"Does it hurt?" he asks quietly, reaching over to turn Louis' head so he can see it better. He cringes at how deep is looks. 

"No. Not really. I'm okay."

"Good," Harry whispers, before dropping the coconut shell and pulling him in for a tight hug. Louis immediately wraps his arms around him as well, and it feels like they haven't done this in forever. He pulls back just enough so he can kiss him deeply; it feels like they haven't done that in a long time, either. 

Niall clears his throat from behind them, and Louis breaks the kiss with a laugh. "Nialler's feeling left out," he whispers, and Harry's not in the mood for jokes just yet but he manages to turn around and give Niall a small smile. 

"I'm not gonna kiss you, but." He pulls Niall in for a hug just as tight, for just as long, and when they pull apart, Harry presses a small kiss to his cheek just because. 

Niall laughs loudly, pushing him away. Louis scowls at him like Harry's this delicate little thing they have to be careful with, but it's alright. Maybe he is. It feels like he is. Like he’s the same as the coconuts; he needs to be protected or else he'll just blow away. 

A little while later, after Louis and Niall show him the trees they're able to climb for fruit, the ones they can't, and a few feet into the jungle -- God, is it really a jungle? He’s not sure -- Harry and Louis are lying on the beach by themselves. Niall said he was going to find some more sticks they can burn for a fire, but Harry knows that he was just making himself scarce so Harry and Louis had a chance to be alone. He's grateful for it, because he's not sure he could've cried in front of Niall, but he does in front of Louis. 

"We're going to die here," he whimpers out pathetically. He's laying against Louis' chest, and he's glad; he doesn't want Louis to see his face. "Nobody's going to know what happened to us, and our families -- God. They'll never know what happened to us."

Louis shushes him quickly. "How are we going to die out here, H? Look around, love. There's food, and we have a system for water, and me and Niall are working on building a shelter right now. We know how to make fire. We're okay."

"That doesn't mean we aren't going to  _ die here _ , Louis," Harry cries. "Maybe we can survive here, but we'll still die here. Years from now. I don't -- I don't want to spend my entire life here."

"Sweetheart," Louis whispers into his hair. "You can't already be losing hope. That's not how we're going to survive."

Harry doesn't say anything because he knows Louis' right. He sniffles quietly and wipes at his eyes before turning to tuck his face into Louis' chest. "We're just lucky we have each other. The three of us, I mean. We're -- we're lucky."

"Very," Louis agrees, stroking his fingers up and down Harry's spine. "Me and Niall were talking, like. . . Whatever happened to Liam and Zayn, we just hope it happened to both of them. If one of them died, I hope the other one did too, for their sake. And if they've bumped into their own little island, I hope they're there together."

"I hope they're home," Harry whispers. "Zayn was so excited to go home. . . "

"Yeah, he was. He got pretty sick of it on this last tour, didn't he?"

Harry nods. They all wanted to get home badly, but Zayn especially. "And Liam wanted to get a dog when he got home. I hope he gets a dog."

"Me too, H." Louis leans down to drop a kiss to Harry's shoulder. "Me too."

Later on that night, Harry's back underneath the palm tree he woke up under, except this time, he's fully clothed. Unlike Louis or Niall, he has a jacket, and they use it as a blanket the best they can. Harry's in the middle, laying on his side while Niall and Louis tuck themselves on either side of him, stealing all of his body heat. He doesn't mind it. He likes them being so close, especially when it's this cold. 

"Your hands are cold," Harry murmurs to Louis, who's back is to Harry's chest. He grabs his hands and envelops them is own, trying to warm them up. From behind him, Niall reaches a hand over as well, places it over Harry's. 

"His feet get cold too," Niall tells him quietly. "It's 'cause he's got no meat on him."

Louis scoffs. "Tell that to me arse."

"You having a big butt does nothing for your toes," Niall says, and Harry inwardly sighs. He doesn't understand how they're in the mindset to joke yet. He's sure he'll get there himself eventually; he'll have to, unless he wants to go insane -- but not yet. Not this soon. 

The only response Harry offers is pulling Louis closer to his chest. Nobody says anything else, and Harry tries to fall asleep.

Two days later, Louis and Harry are about half a mile into the jungle, and Louis' showing him an orange tree that neither Niall or Louis haven't been successful in climbing yet. 

"There's, like, a handle right there," Louis tells him, pointing up at a branch that doesn't seem too far away. "We were thinking you could probably reach it."

And they're right: Harry probably can. It doesn't seem all that high up. And if it is, he can put Louis up on his shoulders, and they can reach it that way. Louis told him on the walk over that Niall tried doing that with Louis, and his knee gave out, which is way Niall has been permanently banned from having anything to do with tree climbing. 

Harry stands on his toes and stretches his body up as far as it will go, and he's just short of it, so he re-positions himself so he's standing on the tree's thick roots. It gives him the amount of leverage he needs, and he grabs the branch tightly. He hefts himself up, even as his body pleads that he doesn't, and quickly reaches out for another branch. This one's thicker; if he can pull himself up, he could probably stand on it. Then he'd be tall enough to just grab a tree branch and start shaking out the oranges that way. 

The plan works, and before he knows it, he's shaking oranges free from the tree and laughing brightly as Louis swears at him and runs to get out of the way. 

"Nearly killed me," he calls up, and Harry just laughs harder. It feels nice, like this; being so high up, being able to help their group eat, laughing. God, laughing feels good. 

"Alright, that's enough," Louis says after a minute. "Careful when you get down. Don't crush any with your giant feet."

Harry nods and listens, although he manages to slip on of the oranges and falls backward on his arse. He laughs again -- it's getting easier and easier to do that -- and Louis laughs too. 

"You alright?" he asks, still chuckling, as he comes over to sit down next to Harry on the ground. He kicks away the closest oranges and turns to look up at Harry, squinting from the sun. 

Harry nods. Because he is. He's alright. They'll live, even if they aren't found. The oranges around them prove that. He can handle this, mostly because he has no other choice in it. 

He lies back against the ground, moving a few oranges out of the way as he goes, and Louis quickly follows suit. If Harry thinks hard enough, he can almost convince himself that this is just some spontaneous date he and Louis have found themselves on. 

Louis must be thinking along the same lines, because he sits up and rests his weight on an elbow to look down at Harry. "How inappropriate would it would be if we had sex right now?"

"Very," Harry replies, breathing out a small laugh. That'd be -- no. They can't do that. Can they? 

"Come on," Louis says. "Doesn't get much more romantic than being stranded on a random island no one's ever heard of and screwing in the middle of a bunch of oranges, does it?"

Harry rolls his eyes fondly and shakes his head. He still doesn't like joking about it. 

But Louis does have a point. Not about the romantic part, but the sex part. They might as well, right? 

"I'll blow you," Louis says, and Harry nods once before setting his head back against the ground and taking a deep breath. He closes his eyes and throws an arm over his eyes to block out the sun, so it's a surprise when Louis starts tugging at his underwear. Harry lifts his body so Louis can pull them off all the way, and before Harry relaxes again, Louis places them under Harry's bum so he's not resting bare against the dirt and sand. 

"Thanks," he murmurs, feeling oddly cared for. 

Louis just snorts as he rubs his thumb over Harry's hip. "I'd be a great loss if your arse got bitten off by a giant spider."

Harry shudders at the thought. The spiders here are frightening. He's sure there are some scorpions around he somewhere, too. He's glad they haven't encountered them before. 

Again, since he's not looking, Harry's taken by surprise when Louis leans down and takes him in his mouth. It's weird, at first; they're out in the open, and Harry feels like everyone can see, even though there's nobody else here. It takes him a few minutes to get used to it, to the feeling of exposure, but when he does, it feels amazing. Being able to focus solely on Louis making him feel good strips away almost every layer of stress Harry has clinging to him. 

He's about to come when he hears twigs splitting and bushes rustling, and he sits up immediately at the same time Louis pulls off. They're both holding their breath, waiting for something terrifying to appear, when Niall appears, looking annoyed about something. 

His annoyance slips off his face when he sees the fallen oranges. "Hey, he got the -- " He stops when they see them on the ground, and then rolls his eyes when he sees Harry naked. "Je _ sus _ ," he hisses. He reaches down to grab an orange and throws it at them. 

Louis gets hit by it, and he squawks, offended. "What is it with you two throwing oranges at me?" He grabs the nearest oranges and dares to throw it at Niall, who instantly protests. 

"I had to see Harry's dick," he argues. "That's punishment enough."

Harry laughs quietly as he stands. He covers himself with his hand the best he can, and turns the opposite way as he slides his boxers back on. He's barely hard anymore, so it’s not that much of a loss. 

"What have you been up to this morning?" Louis asks conversationally as Harry turns back around. They're picking up the oranges off the ground and placing them on Harry's jacket that Niall had tied around his waist. Harry helps as he listens to Niall talk. 

"Nothing. Been bored out of my mind. You two have been gone for at least forty minutes." He huffs out a breath and sets down another orange. "What is a guy supposed to by himself for that long?"

"I don't know," Harry says. 

"Dig a hole," Louis offers. 

Niall rolls his eyes. "Yeah, well, whatever. But I got bored so I came looking after you fucks, and ended up getting an eyeful of Harry dick, so, like. Thanks for that."

"That's about the best bit of entertainment you're going to get out here," Louis tells him. "So you best be grateful."

"So every time I'm bored, I can just say, "Hey, Haz, Louis says you've got an entertaining dick, mind if I take a peek?'"

Louis shrugs and glances at Harry, and Harry mimics the shrug. "So long as you're paying for it."

They all laugh and decide that they can leave the rest of the oranges here until they need more. Louis grabs one end of the jacket and Harry grabs the other, so they've created a little basket. They walk back to their little camp, Niall leading the way, and talk about pretty much nothing. Talking helps the time go by faster, Harry finds. 

When they get back to the beach, they decide it's time to do laundry. They've been doing it everyday; it passes the time. 

They're knees deep in the water, just in their boxers, wringing out water from their shirts when Niall sighs quietly. It sounds a little sad, and Harry frowns, looking up. 

"You alright?" he asks. 

Niall takes a minute before shrugging. "Just a bit lonely out here, is all."

"That's dumb," Louis says. "We have each other. You have company."

"I know. It's just -- different."

"How?" Louis demands, looking offended. He wants to fix whatever is bothering Niall.

Niall shrugs again. "It just is, mate, I don't know."

"'Cause me and Lou are together?" Harry asks quietly, hoping Niall tells him that's not it.

He doesn't. He doesn't say anything. 

Louis huffs out a breath. "Niall, if Harry and I are, like, accidentally third-wheeling you or something, tell us, 'cause we aren't meaning to. We went out to get the oranges by ourselves because you can't climb trees, and -- "

"I know," Niall whispers, shaking his head. "I know. It's not that I feel left out, it's just. . . " He dunks his shirt back in the water, lets it soak for a few seconds, and pulls it back up before he starts wringing it out again. "I can't help but feel like you don't need me."

"That's not true," Harry says quietly. Louis looks furious. 

"Harry's the strength," Niall starts to explain. "And he's tall. We need that. And, like. You're smart, Louis, and you keep us together. I'm just -- here. And it sucks knowing that I'm not needed, 'cause I'm scared it'll eventually turn into not being wanted, either."

Louis waits for him to finish patiently. "If you weren't here, Harry wouldn't have been able to get me on the raft, and we both would've died. If Harry didn't have someone to talk to the first few days I was out, he would've been miserable. If _ I  _ didn't have someone to talk to and figure this island shit out while Harry was out, I would've gone fucking bonkers." He's slowly getting angrier and angrier. "We found the trees that we could reach. We figured out a system for water, which, if we would've have done that quickly before the rain fell the first day we were here, we'd probably be dead, because it hasn't rained in a few days. And we kept Harry safe the first few days he was out of it. That was me and you, Niall."

Niall doesn't look convinced. "Yeah, but -- "

"You're the one who figured out how to start a fire," Louis whispers, voice rough, like it's a dangerous secret. "And if I've learned anything from watching shitty survival movies throughout my life, it's that the people who can start a fire go a whole lot farther than those who can't."

It gets quiet quickly after Louis' done, and the silence must make Louis antsy because he huffs out a laugh. "And I'm serious about the Harry's dick thing. If it'll make you feel more included, we'll just keep his pants off all the time."

Harry scoffs fondly and looks down at the water. It's clear enough that he can see their feet standing on the rocks. 

"He might get cold at night," Niall says quietly, and it feels like a mutual understanding. 

Harry smiles, looking up at them again. Niall and Louis are sharing a gentle smile, one that makes Harry's heart warm.

The next night, as if the skies heard Louis' complaint that it hasn't rained in a few days, it pours. 

They were expecting it; Louis noticed how dark the sky was a couple hours after they woke up. They spent the early afternoon cracking more coconuts and attempting to strengthen their shelter. It's no use, not really; all they've managed to do during the time they've been here is creating a teepee-like structure out of twigs and light branches, and they all are very aware that it will do little to keep out the water. 

And they're right: it doesn't. It takes only about ten minutes of it raining for Louis to start shivering, burrowing into Harry's side for warmth. And then Niall and Harry's teeth start chattering, too, and they all cling to one another with everything they have in an attempt to get a fraction warmer. 

Nothing works. They spend the night freezing and miserable, and when it's over, when the sun's out and the rains gone, it takes them ages to warm up. They take off their soaking wet clothes and lay them out to dry, and lay out on the beach, trying to let the sun warm them up, not caring about modesty at all. That seems like a stupid thing to fret over out here, anyway.

They barely talk all day, and Harry feels a piece of their humanity fall to the floor, hears it shatter. All of their hope has taken a serious beating after last night. 

They make a fire when it turns dark. They're long warmed up by now -- sweating, even -- but they all huddle up around it anyway. Harry stares straight into the fire, not wanting to look at how defeated Niall and Louis look, or at the cut that won't leave Louis' forehead. It's healing, it is, just slowly. Harry guesses all he can do about it is be grateful it hasn't gotten infected. 

"How hard can it be to find a fucking island?" Louis seethes abruptly. Harry glances at him briefly, and he's staring straight into the fire, too, except he looks furious. "It's not small. It's not. Whoever's looking for us must be really fucking bad at their job. We're  _ right here _ ."

Harry shifts to wrap his arms around Louis' arm and cuddles into him. Niall does the same on the other side. Louis just sighs. 

"My younger sisters must be so freaked out," he whispers, sounding an equal mix of angry and sad. "At least your guys' siblings are old enough to understand a bit more of this. Phoebe and Daisy -- Hell, even Fizzy -- are probably so, so confused."

"Yeah, but they have your mum," Harry whispers into Louis' skin. "She'll protect them, Lou. They'll be fine."

He doesn't think about his own mother, doesn't think about how hard she must be taking this. He can't. He's not sure when he'll be able to, but he knows it's not now. 

A little over a month later -- Harry's counting, has been, by carving little tallies into a tree's bark;  _ 57 days _ \-- they're all so bored, it's almost unbearable. It's the hardest part of it all; when you're bored, you think, and none of them want to think, so they try to distract themselves, but it's nearly impossible. 

Louis takes up fishing. Somehow, he actually manages to catch some small fish throughout the day. Niall spends a large portion of the day digging a hole. It's getting so large that Harry's pretty sure he's never going to stop. Harry swims, and he runs, and he does push ups and sits up and basically wears himself down as far as he can before the nights over, and then does it all over the next day. And he likes to tally the days on his tree. That’s when he feels most at peace, for whatever reason.

Him and Louis also have sex a lot, which, to be fair, is a convenient and pleasurable way to pass the time, but they know that going off to fuck around two, sometimes three, times a day is unfair to Niall. 

"Just -- he can join us," Harry grunts out, not really sure what he's saying. Louis' fucking him hard, and then he randomly started talking about Niall and how guilty he feels, and Harry kind of just wants him to shut up and fuck him harder. 

It has the opposite effect; Louis stops altogether, and Harry lets out a deep, long breath. 

"Are you serious?" Louis asks. He pulls out of Harry so he can turn him around and make it so they're facing each other. Harry goes willingly and leans back against the tree he had been clinging to.

They're both breathing hard. 

"I don't know," Harry admits, shrugging. "I don't -- I wouldn't mind it. I don't care. I feel guilty going off and leaving him, too."

Louis furrows his eyebrows and looks off to the side. "It'd be awkward if we brought it up and he said no, wouldn't it?"

Harry shakes his head and reaches out to sling an arm around Louis' shoulders, bringing him closer. Louis' hands fall on his hips, almost as a reflex. 

"It's Niall," Harry says. "He'll probably just make fun of us for the rest of our lives if he says no."

"Is he even into guys?"

Harry snorts at that. "Louis. We're stranded on an island and bored out of our minds. Do you think he's going to be picky?"

"I suppose not," Louis mumbles. He finally looks at Harry again, and he's frowning. He doesn't look as careless as Harry feels about this. "It's just -- I've never shared you before."

"Because I've never let you before."

"But I don't know if I'd like him touching you, H.  _ Anyone  _ else touching you."

Harry shrugs again. "He doesn't have to fuck me. It can just be a bit of fun. And, I don't know about you, but I'd really like to get him out of that hole, so."

"Yeah, that is a little peculiar, isn't it?" Louis mumbles, just before leaning in to kiss gently at Harry's collarbones. "He's in there all damn day, just digging and digging and digging. . . "

Harry inhales shakily. "Yeah. We could distract him. Try to take his mind off things."

"Yeah," Louis agrees. "We could."

Nothing actually comes out of it, at least not for a little while, because Harry doesn't want to be the one to go to Niall with the offer, and Louis still isn't sure he could handle seeing someone else touch Harry, even if it is just Niall. 

Three days later, they're all lying stretched out on the beach on their stomachs. The sun is beating down too hard for them to do anything more than just lay there, so that's what they do. They should probably be laying in the shade, but Harry figures their skin is already permanently sunburned, so it doesn't really matter at this point. 

Usually, on days like this, nobody says anything. There's nothing to say, nothing to talk about that they haven't discussed at length a hundred times before. They're all so, so sick of the monotony of living on a deserted island. If they had to try a little harder to find food or store water or fight off wild animals -- something,  _ anything _ , that would take away the luxury of security so that they'd have something to do, to fixate on, to worry about. But they don't. They have nothing but each other, and that stopped being enough about twenty days ago.

They're  _ bored _ . They just want to go _ home _ . 

Niall, who has probably become the quietest out of all of them, turns to look at Harry, who is in the middle. Harry's always in the middle, for some reason. Niall has sand on his cheek, and Harry reaches over to brush it off for him, earning a small smile from him. 

Once Harry draws his hand back, Niall speaks. "It's been fifty-nine days and I still haven't been able to process that this is where we're going to spend the rest of our lives."

Harry, who usually tries to avoid this type of conversations unless he's the one who starts them, settles his head against his forearm and looks down, away from Niall's somber face. He never knows what to say, especially to Niall. Harry understands how Louis' brain works, the ins and outs of it all, and he's positive that Louis' going to be okay. He's a little depressed, yes, but they all are, and Harry doesn't feel like he has to worry all that much about Louis. 

Niall, though. Harry has no clue what's going on in his head anymore.

"I don't think that's the type of thing you accept," Louis says quietly, his voice slightly muffled from the way his lips are pressed against his arm.

Nobody says anything else, and Louis sighs. He sits up so his forearms are pressed against the sand and looks over at them. "You guys have to at least _ try _ to hold on to hope." He sounds annoyed, like having hope in a situation like this is the easiest thing in the world. It's not. Harry's pretty sure he lost any hope he had the night it poured and they had no shelter. (Now, they have a little hut made of branches and big leaves that keep out the sun. It's not very big, or sturdy, but it does what they need it to.)

"Guys," Louis whispers sadly when neither of them respond again. He scoots over and set a gentle hand on Harry's back. "We're going to be okay."

"You don't know that," Harry says, closing his eyes. 

"We've been okay for this long, haven't we?"

Again, neither Niall or Harry says anything, and it must scare Louis because he mutters something angry under his breath before standing up and disappearing into the trees. Harry watches him go, as does Niall. When they can't see him anymore, Niall turns to him. 

"I'll go after him," he mumbles, already standing up. He winces when he puts weight on his bum knee, and Harry frowns. He wishes it would stop giving Niall so much trouble. 

"Alright," Harry agrees. "I'm gonna wash up and then I'll clean up the fish Louis got this morning."

Niall nods once before following Louis into the trees, leaving Harry alone on the shore, leaving him to think. He thinks about how Louis is wandering around in the jungle right now, probably fighting off tears, thinking that he's failed them somehow. Failed at keeping them hopeful. He's always,  _ always _ , felt responsible for them, especially for Harry, and knowing that both Harry and Niall are at a place of complete hopelessness is most likely tearing him apart. 

But Harry wasn't going to lie to him. He wasn't going to say he was okay, or that they've been doing okay, because it's not true. Yeah, they're alive. But that's about all Harry can say. They aren't happy, they aren't laughing as much as they were in the first few weeks, they aren't talking as much. They're just existing because they have to. 

Eventually, Harry pulls himself off the beach and heads for the water. He takes off his clothes and sets them down on the beach under a rock; he'd be really fucking pissed if the wind took his clothes. He goes out into the water farther than he normally does, so that the water is up to his rib cage, and he washes himself off. They don't have soap, so really all he's doing is wiping off the visible dirt and sand, but he can't do anything else, so he tries not to care. 

Once he's mostly clean, he stares at the water surrounding them. Trapping them. It's daunting to look out and only be able to see miles and miles and miles of water, and once it starts to hurt his head, he turns around to look back at the shore. Niall and Louis aren't back yet, it doesn't look, so he takes his time out in the water. He walks out a bit farther and stops when the water's just about up to his nipples, and then walks a bit closer back to the shore when his chest starts to get tight with panic. He's not really sure why it does that, but it stops when the water's back down to his waist, so he doesn't dwell on it too much. 

He walks a bit more east of the center of the island than he usually does; normally, they just stay out in front of the island. He doesn't go very far, knowing that if Louis came back and couldn't immediately spot him out in the water from the shore line, he'd freak out. 

He's a couple yards out from the shore when he feels a rock slice through the bottom of his foot. Immediately, as the searing pain rips through his body, he pulls his foot up off the rock, cringing and cursing as he does it. He doesn't look down in fear that he'll see the water stained with blood, and instead starts painfully making his way to the shore. The sharks out here might be hungry enough to come investigate the scent of the blood near the shoreline, and he's not going to risk it. 

He limps to the shore, trying to keep as much weight off his injured right foot as he can, and once he finally reaches the shore, he walks just enough so he can collapse into the sand and not have his feet near the water. He lays there, flat on his back, irritated. He's not even thinking about the pain, it's just -- of course he cut his foot. Of course he did. It's going to be such a fucking inconvenience. He should've been wearing his stupid trainers, but he hates when they get all wet because they take forever to dry. And now he's backside is going to be all sandy again, even though he just washed up.

Harry's not sure how long he lies there feeling sorry for himself, but after a while, he hears someone come over to sit by him. He doesn't open his eyes to see who it is, and just moves his foot closer to them. 

"I cut my foot in the water," he says, and he hears a sharp intake of breath before they grab his calf and twist it so they can see the bottom of his foot better. 

"Jesus Christ, Harry," Niall hisses, and he sounds a little alarmed, so Harry finally opens his eyes and looks down at it himself. All he sees is blood, and he sighs, leaning back against the sand. Based on the amount of blood, it's not a small cut. 

"Louis, come here," Niall calls over his shoulder. 

He hears Louis groan and toss something to the side. "I'm  _ trying  _ to make a fire here, 'cause apparently I'm the one making lunch." He comes over to them anyway, and Harry stares up at the sky, mind carefully blank, as he hears Louis bend down and curse loudly. 

"What the fuck did you do?" Louis grumbles, sounding annoyed and worried all at once. He puts pressure near the wound, and Harry hisses, pulling his foot back. He sits up, and his stomach lurches when he sees the blood on the sand and on Louis and Niall's hands. 

"I went swimming," Harry says simply. He pulls his foot closer and sets it on his thigh so he can try to look at it better, but all he can see is blood. He can't see the cut that well, but he knows it runs from about an inch above his heel to the ball of his foot. "Cut it on a rock," he adds belatedly. 

Louis sighs. "H, you should've been wearing shoes."

"And mate," Niall says. "You're going to have sand up your arse crack for days."

Harry laughs quietly, a little surprised. Niall's right, though; he really should've taken the time to put on his underwear before laying down. But he was in pain and grumpy, so he wasn't really thinking. 

"I'll help you wash up," Louis offers, standing up. He looks down at Harry with a little frown. "I have to help you wash that cut out, anyway."

Harry peers up at Louis, pouting a little. "That's going to hurt."

"Like a bitch, yeah," Niall agrees, and Harry turns to shove at his shoulder. Niall grabs his hand and moves it off of him before standing up as well. "I'll clean the fish while you two do that." He pats Harry on the head before leaving, and Harry sighs again, staring down at his foot. 

"Stupid rock," he mumbles as Louis helps him up. Louis laughs quietly and kisses Harry's cheek.

After Louis' cleaned out his cut -- "Ow, Louis, Louis, ow, ow,  _ shit _ " -- he helps him wash off the sand on his body, too. Harry stands there, a little more than useless, with an arm around Louis shoulders so he doesn't have to put any weight on his right foot. It gives Louis a bit of a hard time cleaning him off, but he doesn't complain, so Harry doesn't move. 

Once the sand is gone and the throb in Harry's foot as died down a little, Harry turns to walk back to the shore, but Louis stops him. 

"Come here," he mumbles, pulling Harry closer gently. He pulls him in for a hug, and Harry immediately wraps his arms around Louis' middle. He hooks his right leg around Louis' leg so he doesn't put any weight on it and leans into Louis, holding him close. 

"I love you," Harry whispers quietly, like it's a secret. He moves so his hand is on the back of Louis' neck and he brushes his fingers through the bottom of his hair. It's longer than Louis likes it to be, but they don't really have a choice in that. Harry's own hair is passed his shoulders now. 

"I love you, too," Louis whispers back. He turns his head so his face is tucked into Harry's neck, and it makes Harry squeeze him that much tighter. "I don't like knowing you're sad, Haz."

"You're sad, too. We're all sad."

"Yeah," Louis agrees. "But I don't want you giving up. We could. . . we could be out here a lot longer than this, you know? We can't start feeling so down now."

Harry just nods and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Louis' bare shoulder. After a few more minutes of them holding one another, Louis helps Harry get back to the beach, and then they help Niall cook the fish. 

They all pick a few things to become obsessed with. 

Louis with fishing and making sure there's always firewood nearby, Harry with picking fruit and exercising, and Niall with that goddamn hole. It's gotten deep enough that Louis' had to tell him to stop digging downwards.  _ "We can't have you popping a hole in our island, Niall. It's not like we have a spare." _ So now Niall is working on expanding it away from the center of the island. 

Harry also keeps track of the days still. They're on one hundred and fourteen now. 

For the most part, they stay out of each other's way during the day. That's just how it is now. In the mornings, Harry and Louis go off to fuck, and then they all go their separate ways; Louis to the water, Harry to the jungle, and Niall to his stupid hole. And then, at night, they always talk a bit before they go to sleep. Harry and Niall still don't talk about their families, and Louis still manages to hold onto hope. 

Harry sings a lot when he's in the jungle. Sometimes quietly to himself, and sometimes, when he's feeling particularly angry and bitter, he sings as loud as he can. It's like he's yelling at the sky. Sometimes they're the band's songs, sometimes they're not. Sometimes he just makes them up as the day goes on.  _ Orange tree, orange tree. Do you have more fruit for me? Orange tree, orange tree. Please do share your fruit with me.  _

With Niall's help, the two of them dug a few decently deep holes where Harry stores the fruit in. He realizes almost daily that there's no point of him going out and gathering more fruit when they could easily go and grab a few pieces of fruit whenever they got hungry, but he tries to ignore that. He feels like he has to be doing  _ something _ , and this helps. 

He doesn't go swimming anymore. For the most part, he tries to stay out of the water all together. He has Louis do his laundry now, and even though he stills bathes daily, he rarely goes out very far. After he cut his foot, the water scares him, which -- it's quite childish, he knows. It's not like he lost his foot, or something; he just gained a nasty scar that matches the one on Louis' forehead. But for some reason the water scares him now, and whenever the water's higher than his waist, he gets this panicked feeling and his chest gets all tight and his body goes all hot. So he just doesn't. 

They're all on the verge of insanity, it seems, and maybe that's why Louis brings up having sex with Niall again. 

"I still don't mind it," Harry says, shrugging. They're by the coconuts, lining up more in the sand. It's drizzled lightly the last few days, and it feels like a waste just letting the sand soak most of it up. "I mean, I think it'd be a nice distraction for us all."

Louis laughs under his breath. "I suppose. I'll talk to him about it tonight, when he's helping me clean the fish."

"Okay."

"Is there any boundaries you want me to establish with him?" Louis asks, and Harry shakes his head. He doesn't really care what they get up to; if it's just messy hand jobs, or full on sex. He doesn't care either way. 

It's a bit weird when they do it the first time. Dinner's awkward, so Harry knows Louis brought it up to him, and yet none of them talk about it. It's not until they've finished eating that Niall finally acknowledges it. 

"It's not, like, a pity invite, is it?" he asks, looking back and forth between them both. 

Harry shakes his head, staring into the fire. "No. We're just bored. We know you are too, so."

"You don't seem nervous about it," Niall points out, and Louis glances at Harry, looking interested. Maybe Louis' feeling nervous and Harry just can't tell. 

"It's just sex," he mumbles, shrugging. 

Louis snorts. "Harry Styles, everybody. . ."

And then Harry gets bored of talking about it, and he reaches over to grab Louis' face and kiss him. Louis seems a bit nervous about it at first, but he eases into it after a few seconds. It's a normal, gentle kiss, but with Niall sitting beside them -- looking away? Watching? Harry's not sure -- and it doesn't have to be weird. Harry doesn't want it to be, anyway. 

He blindly grabs for Niall, and Niall grabs his hand and allows himself to be pulled closer. He just hovers, though, not really sure what he should be doing, so Harry pulls away from Louis and turns to Niall. 

"I'm going to kiss you," he says evenly, his voice a bit lower than it was only a few minutes ago. The light from the fire allows Harry to see just how nervous Niall really is, so Harry tries to mentally slow down a bit. He squeezes Niall's hand and inches forward slightly, Louis' hand coming to rest on his hip. "Can I kiss you?"

Niall's frozen, like a spooked animal, and Harry moves closer again. Now he's sitting in front of Niall entirely, only about half a foot away from him. He sets a gentle hand on Niall's cheek; Niall flinches at first, so Harry doesn't move until he relaxes into it. Once he does, Harry leans down to press a tiny kiss to his jaw. 

"It's just me, Niall," he whispers, doing his best to sound soothing. "It's just me and Lou. We're your best mates, right? It doesn't have to be weird."

"It's just sex," Louis repeats, and Harry nods. 

"We're not asking you to get married to us next week," Harry tells him, and it gets him a small smile in return. 

"Don't think there's a chapel here, anyway," Niall says. 

Harry doesn't laugh, just presses another kiss to his skin, this one on his neck. "Can I kiss you, then?"

Niall nods once, and just as Harry tilts Niall's head towards him, Niall tells him to wait. Harry does, immediately pulls back, but Niall squeezes his hand and pulls him back closer. Confused, Harry just waits for Niall to talk, to tell him what they're waiting for. 

"It's just," Niall starts. "How -- how far are we going with this?" He looks nervous again, all the progress Harry made in relaxing him lost. He's staring at Harry with wide eyes like he doesn't want to do something wrong. Like he wants this and doesn't want to screw it up. "Louis said he didn't care what we did, like -- like sex-wise. But I don't -- what do you want to do?"

He'd let Niall fuck him, but he's pretty sure Niall would be too nervous to start there, so he shrugs gently and wraps his arm around Niall's shoulders, bringing him closer. "I can blow you."

"I'll last, like, two seconds."

"I don't mind," Harry promises, giving him a sweet smile. "Less work for me."

Louis laughs quietly behind him, and Niall just nods. 

He pushes Niall back against the sand and Niall goes easily enough. Harry spends a few minutes just gently petting up and down Niall's body and leaving little kisses here and there, and once he relaxes Niall enough to the point he closes his eyes and releases a mostly even breath, Harry turns to give Louis a look. Louis understands and nods once before crawling up next to them and setting a hand on Niall's cheek. Niall's eyes flutter open, and once he realizes what Louis is there for, he's the one to lift up to meet Louis halfway. 

Harry watches them for a long few seconds, almost transfixed, before finally unbuttoning Niall's jeans and pulling them down. 

True to his word, Niall does come pretty quickly. Harry only has his mouth around him for two, maybe three, minutes before Niall's shakily warning him that he’s about to come. And Harry swallows, because he's pretty sure this is all their first threesome and he wants it to be good. Louis kisses Niall through his orgasm, and once he's come down off it, they all silently come to the conclusion that that's all that's going to happen tonight and get up to put the fire out. 

Niall holds him a bit tighter than night, and so does Louis. 

From then on forward, sex becomes their main source of entertainment.

For the first three weeks or so, they experiment with different positions and different activities and different roles. They fuck around every day, usually twice a day, and Harry finds that they both like his arse a great deal. 

Overall, they become a whole lot closer. They start drifting closer again, talking more again, trying to spend more time together. At night, they share proper, intimate cuddles now. And Niall grows out of his nervousness quickly, so more often than not Louis and Harry turn around unsuspectingly, only to be tackled with a kiss by Niall. They start laughing more, too, which is probably Harry's favorite part of it all. 

(The line between Harry and Louis and Harry and Niall or Louis and Niall fades almost immediately. It's the three of them now, and none of them quite realize how deep that dynamic runs at first.)

"Niall," Harry says on the morning of day one hundred and thirty-seven. He's lying on his stomach on the beach, peeling some oranges for the three of them. He likes the oranges best. "Massage my feet," he finishes after a moment, and then to punctuate his request, he wiggles his toes.

Niall scoffs behind him, and Harry fully prepares to get sand tossed at him (something that Louis has tried to ban so many times, but Harry and Niall have too much fun with it sometimes), but instead Niall actually does come over to him. He sits down behind Harry and grabs his left food before he starts rubbing it, singing quietly under his breath as he does. 

Harry smiles quietly to himself and starts singing, too. 

Niall's awfully gentle with right foot, so much so that Harry stops what he's doing just to focus solely on the feeling. It just feels so. . . caring. Loving. Like Niall would rather die than hurt Harry. He doesn't press down directly on Harry's mostly-scarred over cut at all, and he's extremely careful when he's close to it. At one point, his fingernail accidentally brushes against the scar, and Harry flinches, mostly on reflex because he's used to it hurting, and Niall immediately whispers, "Sorry, sorry," and leans down to press a kiss to the back of Harry's calf. 

Later on, after Harry works on getting a mango open (which involves him just throwing it at a tree really hard so it splits open), he sits down by the shoreline and watches Niall and Louis mess around in the water. From here, it looks like Niall's actually trying to get their laundry down while Louis gives him a hard time. 

It makes Harry smile, and it's almost enough to convince himself to go in the water to join them. Almost. It's just -- his chest seizes up just thinking about going out to them. 

And then Louis knees Niall in the dick, and Harry decides he's actually perfectly fine staying on the shore. 

On day one hundred and seventy-four, there's another massive storm, and they're all completely terrified. 

Once it starts, they curl up together in their little hut and just cling to one another. The rain leaks in almost immediately, so they cling even harder. The rain pours down loudly, and Harry wishes desperately it wasn't nighttime. If it was light out, maybe it wouldn't seem so daunting. 

The thunder starts soon enough, and the lightning follows shortly after. 

"Jesus Christ," Niall hisses, after they've all watched lightning strike the water. 

"Maybe we should move away from the trees," Louis whispers, and Harry shakes his head immediately. He's not going out there.

Niall presses a gentle kiss to Harry's head before shaking his head as well. "Being near the water isn't a good idea right now either."

Tears burn Harry's eyes. He's so sick of feeling trapped. He wants to go home. He doesn't want to be stuck sitting under a stupid, useless hut in the middle of a lightning storm on a bloody island. What could he have possibly done to deserve this?

"It's just a storm, Harry," Louis whispers. "We'll be fine."

Harry doesn't respond, knowing full well that if he tried, his voice would reveal just how scared he is. They get the message anyway, and Niall pulls him closer and Louis starts running his fingers through Harry's hair. Both of them whisper quietly to him;  _ you're alright, love, we'll be fine, it's just a storm, we've been through one of these before. _

Their voices blend together as one in his head, and somehow, they do manage to soothe his fears slightly. 

The storm rages on for most of the night, and as the lightning picked up, Niall and Louis stopped being so comforting and started being just as scared as he was. Tree after tree got taken out around them, and the three of them were in the middle of it, terrified. 

In the morning, when it's finally over, they all get up to stretch their legs and to assess the damage. Some of the coconuts stayed put, although Harry's fruit wasn't so lucky; oranges and bananas and mangoes lay scattered across the beach. Louis and Niall work on getting any branches or wood that wound up on the beach out of the way while Harry gathers up the fruit. 

He's setting down a few bananas when he looks up and realizes with a startle that the tree he had been using to mark the days has been struck by lightning. 

Panicking, he hurries over to it. He nearly pukes when he sees that over half of his tallies have been blown off. It's just -- that was his one thing, his  _ one thing _ , that connected him to the rest of the world. He, too, got to mark the days that passed, and now it's gone. It's all gone. The one thing he had here is gone. Destroyed. 

The panic becomes worse when he realizes he can't remember when he counted them all last, let alone what number he was at. He vaguely remembers them hitting one hundred and fifty, but he's not sure how long ago that was. He has no fucking idea, and now they're not going to have any idea how long they've been out here. 

He falls to his knees and, out of pure exhaustion and grief, sobs. 

He cries and cries and cries, and Niall's the first one to find him like that. He bends down to try and hug him, but Harry shoves him off angrily. 

"H, it's alright," Niall whispers, looking stunned. "I know you liked keeping track, but it's okay. We'll be fine."

"Nothing about this is okay!" Harry screams, and God, it feels good. It feels fucking amazing. "We're going to die here, and I've accepted that, but goddammit, I just wanted to know how many fucking days we've been on this stupid island, and now -- " He lets out an anguished noise, a mix between a scream and a sob, and he leans forward to slam his hands against the trees, and yeah, that feels good, too. He does it over and over again, beating his fists on the tree's destroyed bark, and then Louis' coming over and grabbing his hands and telling him to stop. 

"It's okay, Harry, it's okay. It's  _ okay _ . Calm  _ down _ . It's a  _ tree _ ."

"Well it was  _ my  _ tree, okay?" Harry shouts, ripping his arms away from Louis. He doesn't have to see Niall and Louis' faces to know how crazy he sounds and looks, but it's just -- _ that was his thing.  _ The  _ one  _ thing he looked forward to doing every day. And now it's gone, and Harry kind of wishes he was gone with it. 

If he mourns the loss of the tree, well, he doesn't want to talk about it. All he'll admit to is that he lays in their stupid hut for days on end, and that the only time he lets Niall or Louis close to him is at night to cuddle. 

Harry doesn't know what day it is when he finally gets out of the hut to do something other than pee. He would if he had his tree, but he doesn't, so he has no clue. 

He goes to the shore and sits near the water, just like he did the morning he woke up and felt good enough to get up when they first got on the island. Now, though, he's filled with so much defeat and sorrow as he looks out at the ocean, and he has to try really hard not to cry. 

Louis' cautious when he comes over to sit by him. When Harry doesn't snap at him, Louis tentatively offers him a peeled orange, which Harry accepts with a shaking hand. He eats it in silence, and once he's done, he stands up and quietly tells Louis that he's going to wash up. 

"Hazza. . . " Louis says quietly, looking up at him sadly. "It was just a tree."

"It's not about the stupid tree," he snaps, even though it kind of is. He knows Louis wouldn't understand, though. "I just want to go home, Louis. That's it. I just want to be home."

"Me too."

"Clifford and Bruce probably forgot who we are by now," Harry says, because that's something he's let himself think about these last few days. He still can't think about his mum or his step-dad or his sister, but he allowed to think about their dogs. Their poor dogs who are probably beyond confused and think they've been abandoned. 

Louis frowns and shakes his head. "Clifford, maybe. He's pretty dumb. But not Bruce."

"I'm gonna go wash up," Harry says again, and he turns away from Louis. This time Louis lets him go. 

Harry nearly as a panic attack in the water, which doesn't exactly surprise him. He had felt it, the sense of panic, rising in him as soon as he stepped foot into the water. The lightning hit the water a handful of times, and now he was walking in the same water, and that water is the same water that holds the rock he sliced his foot on and that's been trapped him here for the last one hundred and some days. 

Louis' watching him from the shore, so he convinces himself not to immediately turn around and go back. He just tries to breathe through it, even as it becomes harder and harder to do. Before he thinks,  _ alright, if I don't get out of this water right now, I will have a full-blown panic attack _ , he manages to wash the lower half of his body. He decides that'll have to do for now.

Louis' still watching him as he shakes the sand out of his clothes and tugs them back on, and once he turns around, Louis finally comments on it. "Not a fan of the water anymore?"

Harry shakes his head as he tugs off his wet trainers and socks. He throws them carelessly to the side; maybe if they blow away, he'll have an excuse not to go in the water anymore. "Haven't been for a while."

"We've noticed that," Louis says. He's looking up at Harry sadly. "And that's alright. You don't have to go in the water if you don't want to, obviously, but -- Harry. It's just water, you know? You'll be okay."

Harry rolls his eyes bitterly. "Just like the storm a few nights ago was just a storm? And then it basically blew up our island? You said it yourself, Louis: we don't have a spare."

"It only hit four of our trees, and two of them are pretty much fine," Louis corrects evenly. "And the ones it did hit, like -- makes getting firewood easier, I suppose."

_ You're using parts of my tree for firewood? _ Harry doesn't ask, because he's pretty sure that'd make him sound completely insane. He just pulls a face before walking off to find Niall. 

He's back to digging in his hole, and Harry lets out a loud, drawn-out sigh. 

"I'm bored," Niall defends, looking up at him. The hole’s not that deep, but it's up to Niall's thigh, and it's probably a few feet wide. "One of my best friends decided to check out for a few days, which left my other best friend moping, so -- " he motions to the hole, like it explains everything. 

It kind of does. 

"And besides," Niall continues, wiping his hands off on his pants. "The storm's winds blew a decent amount of sand back in here, so I've just been working on getting that out."

"But why?"

Niall gives him a pointed look. "I'm  _ bored _ . Did you not hear me say that the first hundred times?"

Harry glances around; first to Louis, who's still sitting by the shoreline, and then to the sky that was shooting lightning at them only a few days ago, and then back at Niall, who's watching him carefully. 

Harry raises an eyebrow at him and shrugs. "Are you bored enough to fuck me, then?"

"Definitely," Niall replies, grinning. It's like he knew Harry was going to say that. He pulls himself out of the hole and stands. "You can go get started with Lou. I've got to wash off my hands." He holds them up, and they're caked in sand. 

"We don't have to do it with Louis. . . " Harry murmurs, feeling guilty as he says it. He doesn't even know why he says it, it's just -- he's upset, and it doesn't feel very nice to be called out on his despondency by your boyfriend. Niall usually doesn't talk about it as directly as Louis does. He'll check in on Harry, on both of them, but in subtle ways. Ways that don't seem so threatening and intense. 

Niall furrows his eyebrows, slowly putting his hands back down to his side. "Did you two get in a fight?"

"No. . ." He looks off to the side again, this time nowhere in particular, just away from Niall. "I'm just -- I was just saying. We don't always have to do it with him. I know you two do stuff without me sometimes."

"When you're sleeping or you're really upset, yeah, but -- H. It's the three of us. Always, okay?"

"I know," Harry mumbles, embarrassed. He doesn't know why he's acting like this. "Always."

Niall looks pleased. "Alright then. Go get Louis and I'll go wash my hands."

"Okay, I will."

He watches Niall walk away, but only lets him get a few feet away before he calls his name. Niall turns expectantly, and Harry shrugs, feeling a lump of emotion stuck in his throat. 

"I just -- " Harry stops, and then starts again. "I love you. Both of you. Always."

Niall's face melts, and he laughs quietly, sounding a little caught off guard. He collects himself quickly, though, and he gives Harry a firm nod. "You too, H. Always.

Always; it becomes a bit of a tradition between the three of them, after that.  _ I love you, always. I hate you, always. Your feet smell, always.  _ And even when they joke around with it, they all can feel the deeper meaning of it. Each time it's said, it's like their bond solidifies even more, and Harry knows it's true. Always. It's going to be the three of them, always.

The days seem to go by even slower ever since Harry stopped keeping track. He has no idea how many days have passed since the lightning storm.

At every sundown, he's surprised that it's only evening. At every sunrise, he begs the sun to work a little quicker that day. 

But things go back to normal after a short while, because Louis and Niall were right. It was just a tree. It was Harry's tree, yes, and it felt like the only tether he had to the real world, but it was still just a tree. He can't be angry at the only two real people he has with him over a tree. 

Harry stops acting bitter, Niall comes out of his hole again, and Louis stops looking at him so worriedly. He's still worried about Harry -- he always is -- but they've gotten back down to the normal amount. 

(And Harry's mostly over his tree, but every single morning he's reminded by the loss of his tradition, and he gets sad for a few minutes, but he doesn't let it last longer than that so it doesn't count.)

They wake up, and after doing the daily routine of checking the coconuts, drinking some water, washing their clothes and finding some firewood for later, Harry stretches out and turns to look at Niall and Louis. They're all just in their boxers for now while everything dries, and the sun works on embedding their permanent sunburns deeper into their skin. 

"Want to go to the orange tree?" Harry asks, squinting at them. The sun's awfully bright today. "We haven't gone out there in a while."

"What is it with you about oranges?" Louis asks, rolling his eyes, but he plops to the sand to pull on his trainers and Niall does the same. Harry already has his on, so he gets a little bit of a head start and starts walking to the tree by himself. 

The trees aren't scary anymore. Neither are the spiders, really; only the ones that come straight towards them for no real reason. He's used to it here now, and even though he hates to say that, it's true. The way the trees loom over him are no longer daunting; instead, he thanks them for their protection from the sun. He tries to think positively, because thinking negatively has gotten him nowhere. (Maybe Louis was right about that this entire time.)

By no means is he happy here. There's not a single day that he doesn't wish to be home. But every time he thinks that, he follows it up with being grateful that they aren't stuck somewhere else with less food. That they aren't stuck out here alone. 

He gets to the orange tree two or three minutes before Niall and Louis do, and as he waits for them to come, he grabs a fallen orange and tosses it around. It keeps him occupied. 

"Maybe today's the day we venture on further into this jungle," Louis says, peering ahead of them. Louis and Niall went out about a mile farther than this those first few days Harry was out of it, but Harry hasn't gone past this tree. There's not a good explanation as to why, except other than he hadn't felt the need to.

"Not too much farther," Harry says, although he's not disagreeing. "I don't want to get lost."

Louis snorts, and right, they're on an island; they'd find their way out, eventually. It's not that big. Harry narrows his eyes at him and tries to make up for it. "And Niall's knee probably won't like us walking all that far."

Niall  _ aww' _ s and reaches forward to grab Harry's shoulder, pulling him closer. Harry goes willingly, kind of tumbling into Niall's chest. "He's my new favorite."

"Yeah, well, neither of you are my favorites," Louis says, rolling his eyes. He shoves at them, laughing brightly. 

They each pick up an orange off the ground to eat as the walk, and then they move forward. 

They're probably a mile and a half, maybe more, away from the shore when they hear it. 

They all freeze, their smiles slipping off their faces immediately and eyes widening. All of them know what it is -- the sound of a helicopter is almost unmistakable -- but all of them also know that they're very far from the shore and that they have to go. Now. 

Louis' the first to move, and he grabs both of their arms and starts sprinting back towards the shore, almost dragging them at first. Eventually, Niall and Harry's bodies catch up to their minds and they start running properly. Sprinting with everything they have, desperation exploding in their veins. 

"We can't -- we can't miss it," Harry chokes out, his throat burning as he speaks. Everything's burning; his legs and his arms and his chest, and he's been the most physically active out of the three of them. He can't imagine how the other two are feeling, and God, Niall's knee, and -- 

"Just run," Louis grits out, and they all forge on faster. 

Niall slips on an orange when they pass the tree, and Harry lets out a wounded noise. He stops to help him up at the same time Louis does, but Louis shakes his head at him and pushes him forward. "Go," he seethes, helping Niall to his feet. "You're the fastest, so go."

So Harry goes, and even though the others are right behind him, barely a foot behind, he feels so incredibly alone in all of this suddenly. Like it's his responsibility to get there first, and if he doesn't make it in time, it's all his fault. 

He runs, and he runs, and he runs. 

The helicopter is still loud above them. They can still hear it; it's still close. 

As soon as the beach comes into sight, they all start screaming without thinking about it. He doubts the people in the helicopter can hear them over the noise, but it's worth a shot, so they scream and shout and Harry even starts waving his hands even though it makes it harder to run. 

When they reach the beach, Harry fully expects to see the helicopter gone, to have failed them, but it's not. It's still hanging above the beach, it's propellers spinning as fast as their legs are moving. 

Their screaming gets ten times louder, and they all stand right in front of the helicopter and wave their hands wildly. There's no way the pilot doesn't see them, but on the off chance they don't, they don't stop. 

And then the helicopter lands on the beach, a few feet away from Niall's hole. 

The moments after that are blurry and mostly gone, but Harry does know that, before they climbed up into the helicopter, he ran over to the shore and grabbed their clothes. He doesn't know why, but he did, and as they sit behind the pilot and the passenger, hearts hammering in his chest, he has Louis' frantic cry of  _ Harry, where the hell are you going?  _ playing on repeat in his head. 

They've been rescued. They've been saved. They're going to be okay. 

At least, that's what Harry keeps trying to tell himself, but it doesn't feel real. He's so scared he's dreaming, or that they're going to fall again, and this time, there won't be an island to save them. 

Niall's head shifts against his shoulder, and Harry wills himself to stop thinking about that and to just focus on his boys. On Niall's hair tickling his neck, on Louis' tight grip around his wrist. On the way Louis had snapped at one of the pilots for touching Niall on the way up, even though they were just trying to help. 

There's not been much communication between the three of them and the two pilots, aside from a little in the beginning. Their names are Kelly Mitchell and John Wilson, and they're from England, and they are taking them home.  _ Home. _ They asked if they're alright, and Niall shakily croaked out that they were physically fine, and they haven't talked at all. 

It's been ten minutes since Kelly asked them if they were okay. Harry can't stop staring at the clock. 

John is the one flying, and at exactly 3:01, he reaches for his radio and says, "We've got them. All three of them. They're -- they're alive, all of them. They're okay. We found them.  _ We found them _ ." And he sounds so overjoyed, so overcome with emotion, that it makes Harry clench his eyes and try to will away the tears. 

Once John puts down the radio transmitter, he turns to Kelly briefly. "I'd get them talking. We don't them going into shock."

She nods firmly, and very slowly, turns around in her seat to look at them. Louis' grip tightens around Harry's wrist at the same time Harry's grip tightens around Niall's waist, his fingers digging into Niall's rib cage. 

To avoid eye contact, Harry flicks his eyes anywhere else, and he mistakenly looks out the window. He catches sight of the water below them, the same water that's been trapping them this entire time, and his stomach rolls dangerously. He doesn't think he's actually going to puke, but he does anyway. 

"It's the water," Louis tells Kelly as she immediately unbuckles to clean up the sick and glances up at Harry worriedly. "He doesn't -- he doesn't like the water."

"Understandably so," she says sympathetically, and Harry doesn't like the look of pity she gives him. He turns his face into Louis' neck and exhales shakily. Niall's adjusts himself so he's plastered against Harry's side still, and Louis starts to pet at Harry's hair soothingly. 

Kelly clears her throat quietly. "We still have a long way to go, so is there anyone you three want at the hospital that we can contact for you? Just to give them all a bit of a heads up. . ." She trails off, looking overwhelmed. 

"My mum," Louis says immediately. He sounds so small. "And Harry's going to want his mum, his step-dad, and his sister."

Harry is glad he answered for him, because talking right now seems impossible. 

"My parents, and my brother," Niall whispers, her breath hot against Harry's neck. "They -- they're in Ireland."

"And the boys," Louis whispers. He clears his throat after a moment. "Zayn and Liam. They -- they need to be there too."

Niall and Harry both nod.

"Okay," John says from the front. He goes to his receiver again. "Tomlinson wants his mother, Styles wants his mother, his stepdad, and his sister, and Horan wants his parents and his brother. Contact them now. And the other two, Malik and Payne. Contact them too. Break the news carefully."

A silence rips through the plane as the three of them recognize what that means. Harry does cry, then, small pitiful cries into Louis' neck. His mum is about to find out he's alive. After God only knows how long -- Harry's too afraid to ask -- she's going to find out her son is alive. 

"You're alright, love," Louis whispers, but he doesn't sound as soothing as he did before. He sounds just as raw as Harry feels. 

Niall moves from his side, and both Louis and Harry immediately reach out to get him back. It startles all five of them, how deep their bond now runs, and Niall slowly plasters himself back to Harry's side, this time with his jacket in hand. He covers Harry up with it, and pats his shoulder through the fabric. 

Harry's half asleep against Louis' shoulder when he talks, and it makes him jolt awake. He wouldn't say he was sleeping, exactly, more so. . . shutting his brain off because everything is too much right now. Niall rubs his fingers over Harry's shoulders, shushing him quietly. 

"How did you find us?" Louis had asked, and Kelly sighs tiredly from the front. 

"Some fishermen reported seeing a body in the water a few hundred miles from here," she says quietly. "They reported it back to Mexico, where they're from, but. . . communication between coasts regarding the Pacific Ocean has been open and efficient since you lot disappeared."

"They thought it was one of us," Niall infers, and she nods. 

"It was unlikely, we knew that," she admits. "You lads have been got for a while now, and the likelihood that one of you just popping up now was small, but UK forces have been busting their asses to get you three back, or at least find out what happened, where you ended up, so we took a chance. And, well. Here we are."

Louis tenses next to him, and Harry's not surprised to hear the anger in Louis' voice when he speaks. "We were on a bloody island. A huge island. If you were trying so hard to find us, why did it take so long?"

"It's not that big of an island," John intervenes, and that's all he says about it. 

Harry gets the feeling that maybe they weren't actually looking that hard. 

The three of them don’t say anything else for the rest of the flight. Kelly and John ask them a few questions, but none of them even think about answering them. They don't want to sit here and chat, they want to go home. 

And for the first time in a long, long time, Harry can finally follow up that thought with  _ we are. We're going home. _

When they land, it's on the top of the hospital.  _ For security reasons _ , John tells them, and right. Harry's almost forgotten. They're international popstars who disappeared and have suddenly came back from the dead;  _ everyone  _ is going to be dying to get a glimpse at them.

"We're trying to keep this under wraps for now," Kelly says, "but it's likely to get out somehow, and quickly. I'm sorry."

None of them say anything still. They just stay where they are, cuddled up together in the back, only in their boxers still. 

"We'll give you three a minute of privacy, but after that, we need to get you seen as soon as possible," John tells them, giving them a soft smile. With that, the two of them leave and shut the door, and then it's only them. 

Niall's the first to talk. "We're in  _ London _ ." His voice comes out raw, like the inside of his throat has been scraped down to the skin. "We're -- we take one step out that door and we're going to see a city. People. Cars. Like -- God, just  _ look _ ."

Harry knows he's referring to the window, but Harry doesn't look up, not yet. He can't face the world yet. He wants to be ready to, but he's not. He can't. 

"We should get dressed," Louis says quietly, and so they do. It's cramped in the helicopter, but none of them complain because, come to think of it, small spaces aren't all that bad. He'd rather be stuck in here for a year than go back to that island for a day. 

When they're all dressed, Harry turns to Louis on instinct. Louis will tell them what they need to do. He's the logical one, the one that can push aside his emotions to keep them safe. 

"We should probably go, then," he whispers. 

It makes Harry's heart drop, for some reason. "I'm so scared."

Louis nods once. "Me too." He's looking down at the ground, and he crosses his arms over his chest before looking back up at them. He looks serious. "We're going to be alright, though."

"We've made it this far," Niall agrees, eyes wide. 

Harry doesn't share their sense of optimism. He's bloody terrified. 

"Look," Louis says as he reaches to grab both of their wrists, his grip tight. "It's the three of us. We -- we're -- it's -- " he pauses, looking beyond frustrated, and then lets out a small breath. "Just. . . always, yeah?"

"Always," Niall repeats, looking fierce. 

Harry nods. "Always."

Harry purposefully keeps his head down the entire walk from the helicopter to their room. He's so tempted to look up -- to see the people he can hear talking, to see the colors and the paintings and the little pamphlets that are undoubtedly everywhere, he wants to see everything -- but he doesn't look up because he's so scared he's going to feel out of place here, too. Like he's not meant to be anywhere in this world anymore. That no matter where he goes, he'll always be longing to be somewhere else and that he'll never feel safe again. 

They're walking in a line with John at the front and Kelly at the back. Harry's in-between Louis and Niall, and they're holding hands, staying linked. Harry's hoping that, with the two of them nearby, anyplace will be good enough. 

They finally stop at a closed door, and John turns to them. Harry chances looking up, but he only focuses on John's face. (He can't help notice the door behind him, though. The blinds are pulled shut; it screams privacy. Its shiny exterior feels completely foreign to him now. And he catches sight of a bright flash of pink out of the corner of his eye.  _ Flowers _ . Flowers in a vase instead of stuck to trees.)

"This is Niall's room," John says, "and the next room, room 204, is -- "

" _ No _ ," Louis says immediately. His hand tightens on Harry's, and by reflex, Harry's grip tightens on Niall's hand.

Harry takes a small step back so Louis' closer, and tugs Niall back as well. He just wants them close, needs it. They won't be separated, not for a goddamn second. It's not going to happen. 

John blinks. "No? I don't understand."

"Put us up in the same room," Louis demands. When John makes a face like he's about to protest, Louis starts talking again. "We're in some posh hospital in London, I guarantee you that that room is big enough for the three of us. Don't tell me it's not. And don't tell me that we can't stay together, 'cause them I'm going to -- "

"Okay," Kelly interrupts. She sounds stressed. "Okay. We'll sort it out. Just. . . let them in, John."

"That's not what we were told to do," John argues. 

Kelly sighs. "I don't think they care about what we were told to do. Just let them in. It won't hurt anybody."

John opens the door and steps to the side. He doesn't look happy about it, but he does it. They file in quickly, and then they're left alone with a promise that one of them will be just outside the door. 

It's quiet. Too quiet. Harry feels like he's crawling out of skin; he's so, so scared. He just wants his mum. Maybe then this will all feel more real and less scary. Right now, though, he kind of just wants to hide. 

Niall lets go of his hand, and immediately, he scrambles forward to take it again. It's just -- it feels like if he lets go, if he stops touching them, they'll disappear. It doesn't make any sense, but he doesn't care. The last however many days didn't make sense, either. He just wants to be close to the two of them, that's it. 

"I just want to look out the window," Niall whispers. "I'll be right over there, Haz. I'm not leaving you. Either of you. Ever."

He lets go of Harry's hand again, and this time, Harry manages to let it happen. He takes a few deep breaths and convinces himself to look up. He sees Niall walking to the window, and the window -- God. God. 

He has to turn away. It's too much all at once.

It goes on like that for the rest of the day, them relearning normal, everyday things that used to be so mundane to them they didn't need to look at it twice. The television, car horns honking, music. God, music. The hospital staff has given them a phone -- Harry's got no idea who it belongs to -- and he's pretty sure they're supposed to be using it to call their loved once but none of them do. That's too hard. What are they supposed to say?  _ I'm back, surprise!  _ No. Harry doesn't want to just hear his mum's voice, he needs to _ see _ her. 

Soon, the staff keep telling them. Soon.

The hospital staff leaves them alone for the most part after Louis freaked out on them for no good reason. They were just trying to explain to them that they need to take their vitals, and he got  _ so mad _ . He was clawing at Harry's arm while he shouted at them that they were fine, that they didn't need anything, that they weren’t dying. Niall didn't even flinch; he just kept looking out the window. But Harry, who was curled up next to Harry on the hospital bed, was staring at him, at his flushed cheeks and pointed eyes, a little scared. 

A little while ago, a young lady came in and updated them. All their families are driving out to come see them --  _ why wouldn't they just fly? It would get them here so much quicker _ , Harry thought sadly, and then his chest got all tight when he realized that ' _ just flying'  _ is what got the three of them into this mess in the first place, and he was grateful to the point of tears. 

"So my family will be here last, then," Niall said quietly, and both Harry and Louis scrambled out of bed to go hug him. They clung to each other until they were all crying and breathless. By accident, Harry looked out the window again, and when he saw outside, his knee gave way a bit and he clenched his eyes shut, hard. 

Louis' mum and older sisters arrive first, and Louis flings himself out of the bed they're all squished in so fast that Niall's elbow accidentally knocks into Harry's cheek. He squeezes Harry's hand tightly, maybe as an apology, or maybe as a nonverbal way to communicate the evil jealousy they both feel so intensely. 

Louis is collapsed against his mum's chest, and he's sobbing loudly into her shoulder. Her nails are digging into his back, and she keeps whispering something to him, but she's speaking so softly and through such thick tears that Harry can't back them out. He wonders if Lottie and Fizzy can, who are hugging Louis from behind, waiting for their turn to get a proper hug. 

Harry feels nauseous by the time Jay finally lets her son go, and he's crying, too. He misses his mum so much. It's not fair that Louis' made it here first, which is just awful, but he can't help but think it anyway. 

"Oh, you boys come here," Louis' mum says, and Harry's mind doesn't quite grasp that she's referring to them, that him and Niall are the ones she's waving over, until Niall slowly gets out of bed and into her open arms. Harry scrambles after him, not wanting to be left out. 

Even if Jay isn't his mum, her hug still makes Harry feel loved and cared for and a little safer. She strokes at Harry's hair and squeezes Niall's shoulder, and she kisses the tops of both their heads. It makes Harry feel a little more okay, especially when he sees Louis hugging his sisters. 

Until Harry's family comes, Harry and Niall curl up back in bed together and give Louis his space with his family. Louis doesn't seem to want it, judging by the way he keeps turning around to make sure that Niall and Harry are still there. Every time he does that, and every time he looks settled again when he sees they're safe, Harry's stomach flips happily. 

"Soon, love," Jay tells Harry, smiling at him with tears in her eyes. "I spoke to your mum not to long ago. She's close. She was only twenty minutes behind us."

"I know," Harry says, and his voice sounds hopeless even to him. It's just -- he wants his mum. He wants her so badly. 

Niall tightens his arms around Harry's middle. 

When Harry's mum does come, he cries and cries and cries. As she hugs him -- _ she's here, she's here, she's here _ \-- a heavy weight settles on Harry's chest, and he feels like he can't breathe just right, but he clings to her anyway. If anything can make that go away, it'll be her.  _ She's here, she's here, she's here.  _

Gemma cries when she hugs Harry, and that makes the weight feel more solid against Harry's chest. She never cries, and especially not for him. 

"Your hair's different," Harry chokes out against her shoulder. Every time he pictured her when he was away, he was picturing her with pink hair, like she had before he left. Now she's back to brunette, and it makes him feel awful, for some reason he can't quite work out. 

Eventually, things settle down. As much as they can, anyway. Harry's dad and stepdad are here, too, so there are now ten people crammed into one hospital room. Louis and his family are by the window, sitting on the chairs near there, and Niall's still sitting in the bed. Harry sits on the edge of it so he's close to him -- he can't imagine being the only one without his family -- but he's pretty sure the sentiment is lost because his mum is latched to his side, not letting him go. 

"I'm sorry," Harry whispers to Niall, and Niall shakes his head, tells him not to be stupid. 

"I'll call your mum," Gemma says, standing up. "See how far out they are."

Niall just nods, and he doesn't look up as Gemma leaves the room to call his parents. He does look up when she comes back, though, and he looks devastated when she tells him that they're still about six hours out. 

_ They should've flown _ , Harry thinks again, and immediately, he chest tightens again at the thought. 

It's about two hours later when Louis sits up and asks where Zayn and Liam are.

They've all moved around now, since more chairs have been brought in. Niall is sitting by the window, looking out, and Gemma is sitting beside him, her hand barely moving from his knee. She's trying to be comforting, but it's obvious Niall doesn't even feel it.

Harry's sitting beside Robin on a hard plastic chair, tucked into his side, while his father is on the other side of him with his hand on Harry's ankle. Anne is behind Harry, rubbing at his shoulder. It should feel suffocating, but it doesn't. Not even for a moment. 

Louis' family has taken over the bed. Louis and his mum are at the top, and he's cuddled into her side. Lottie is tucked up behind their mum, while Fizzy is laying with Louis, her head resting on Louis' knee. He has a hand on her head. 

Harry wishes so badly that Niall wasn't alone, and when Louis mentions Zayn and Liam, he realizes that they could be here, comforting Niall and actually doing a good job of it. 

As soon as the words are out of Louis' mouth, Niall and Harry find each other and lock eyes. He looks as alarmed as Harry feels. And when Harry turns to look at Louis, he looks scared as well. 

They're all thinking the same thing: they aren’t here because they're dead.

Harry sits up, his heart hammering in his chest, and he twists to look at his mum. He hadn't even thought of them being dead. On the island he thought of that possibility, but not here. Not since they've been okay. The pilots asked after Zayn and Liam like they were alive, so Harry didn't think -- what if -- what if they were only doing that to keep the rest of the calm, what if --

"Oh, no, no, they're alright, baby," Anne tells him hurriedly, and Harry doesn't know why, but it sets a wave of fresh tears off inside of him. He lets out a loud cry, and then covers his face. Hands are on him in an instant, rubbing at his back, but he can't tell who they belong to. 

"They're on a flight here from Los Angeles," Gemma says, and that just makes Harry cry harder. Not because that means they're still hours away, but because they're _ on a flight _ .  _ They're on a plane. _ They're probably flying over an ocean right now, and what if the plane goes down again and it's a repeat of before? What if the two of them don't make it out alive this time? 

Harry's mind goes haywire, then, and all he can do is remember how tightly he was holding onto Louis as the plane dropped out of the sky. He was clutching onto him with everything he had, and he was terrified, and if he hadn't -- he remembers the cut on Louis' forehead, how badly it was bleeding, how scared he was that Louis was going to die. 

"Harry, Harry," he hears, and the panic around his lungs thickens when he struggles to hear the words of whoever is talking to him. "Darling," he hears, but barely, and then he chokes on a breath. He's not breathing right, he realizes, and then that freaks him out even more. 

He feels himself being moved around, and even that feels distant. "Open your eyes, baby," a voice tells him, so he does, and immediately --  _ as soon _ as he sees Niall and Louis hovering over him -- he feels better. Mentally, at least. Physically, he still can't breathe that well. 

Looking at the scar on Louis' forehead makes his stomach roll, so he stares at Niall's face instead and focuses on the warmth of Louis and Niall's hands that are on his body. On Louis' hand firm on the back of his neck, and Niall's gentle hand on Harry's thigh. 

Eventually, his lungs and brain get their shit together and he feels okay again. Embarrassed and nauseous, but okay. Robin and Des are replaced by Niall and Louis, so that his boys are surrounding him now, and he rests his head on Niall's shoulder and keeps Louis close by fisting his shirt. 

"Where'd you go, love?" Louis whispers, and Harry just snuggles closer into Niall's side. He doesn't want to talk about it. 

"We should tell the doctor, right?" Harry hears his mum ask. "That Harry had a panic attack."

Harry immediately starts to protest. "It wasn't a -- " and he stops himself before he finishes that sentence, because yes, it was. He sighs "I'm fine, Mum. Really. Don't get the doctor."

"But it doesn't seem like they've done much of anything except put you up in a room," Jay says. She doesn't sound happy. "You're all still in your filthy clothes, and you've not showered. What have they actually done since you three have been here?"

"Their best," Louis says, and Harry turns his head to look at him in time to see him shrug. "We haven't exactly been the most cooperative, so."

They've haven't been, to be fair. Well, Louis hasn't. He's the one who put up a fuss about them being separated, and then about them being examined. Harry probably would've if Louis hadn't, so he's not mad at him or anything. But they can't exactly blame the doctors for leaving them be when they've made it clear that that's what they want.

"How long were we gone for?" Niall asks suddenly, and Harry tenses. He sits up slowly, looking at Jay, who will probably be the only one to consider being honest with them. The others will just tell them not to worry about it. 

Harry wants to know, but he doesn't, but he does, so he waits for an answer. 

"Just tell us," Louis says, sighing. He scoots closer to Harry and drapes his arm across the back of Niall and Harry's chairs. "The hospital gave us a phone, so we could just look it up, anyway."

Jay gives him a pointed look, and then exhales quietly. She glances at Anne, who looks awfully apprehensive, and then back at them. Before she can answer, Gemma sighs and sits up straighter. 

"About eight months," she tells them. "The plane went down in August. It's the end of March."

It's silent for a few moments. More silent than any room with ten people should ever be, and probably ever has been. Niall, Harry and Louis are all digesting that, and the rest of them are remembering. Remembering what, Harry's not sure, but they're all thinking of something. Harry can see it on their faces. 

Anne's giving Gemma a look, one that Gemma completely ignores.

And then Niall says, "Oh."

And really, that's all there is to say to that. Oh. A part of Harry is panicking again, thinking  _ eight months? Eight whole months? Are they sure? _ but a larger part of him isn't surprised. He knew it had been a long, long time. 

Everybody goes back to saying nothing, and it must make a few of them uncomfortable, because Anne turns on the TV and finds a random cooking show, and Lottie gets up to go down to the cafeteria for a coffee, and Fizzy follows her after a moment. The rest of them stare at the television screen, probably feeling uncomfortable as well but being unsure what to do about. 

"We should shower," Louis whispers, just so Niall and Harry can hear. They really should. They probably stink like salt water and sweat, and whatever else an island might smell like. Oranges, maybe, Harry thinks numbly. 

"You can go first," Niall says. "Me and Haz can wait here. Keep each other busy watching . . . whatever this is."

Louis frowns. "I thought we'd go, like. Together."

"Oh," Niall mumbles. He shrugs. "That's fine. I'm hungry, so I'll probably have one of your mum's -- "

"Why are you being stupid?" Louis asks, a little loud. Robin and Jay glance at the three of them. "Come on." He grabs Harry's wrist and the back of Niall's shirt as he stands. He shoots Niall an annoyed look as he lets the both of them go, and Harry kind of just stands there, not quite sure what is going through either of their heads. 

"We're going to go shower," Louis announces, mostly to his mum. "Can you get us new clothes while we're in there? And not those gowns with the holes in the arse."

Jay nods. She looks a bit uncomfortable, and Harry suspects that that's because Louis' acting so normal. It reminds him of how he felt when he first woke up on the island to Niall and Louis laughing brightly, like everything was okay. 

They head to the bathroom, and once the door shuts and the three of them are on the other side of it, Harry wonders what their families are thinking. Do they think they're going to take turns and don't want to be alone, or are they wondering if they're all going to go at the same time? Harry doesn't even know what the plan is, so he stands there, staring down at the counter as he runs his fingers over the edge. He's standing in front of the mirror, but he's not going to look yet. Not until after he showers. 

Louis takes a piss, and once he's done, he turns to them. "We're all fucking filthy," he says, like they don't know. Like they can't feel the dirt clinging to their skin. 

Niall nods. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to stand forever though. My knee's killing me from running like that."

That memory already seems so far away. Harry wishes it were farther. 

"Okay," Louis says, nodding. "And Harry? Is the water going to bother you?"

Harry scoffs, and finally turns to him. "I can handle a fucking shower, Louis," he snaps, and he doesn't mean to, it's just -- he can handle a shower. It's a shower, for fuck's sake. He's not scared of _ water _ , he's scared of the bloody  _ ocean _ that almost swallowed them all whole and kept them trapped for eight months. 

"Okay," Louis says again. He doesn't look hurt or angry that Harry snapped at him, which makes Harry relieved. 

Harry watches Louis pull back the shower curtain. It's a decent sized space, although three people might be pushing it. Two would probably be no problem, since the hospital they're staying at seems rather spacious. Three, though. They'll be cramped in there, and they'll get water everywhere, and Harry doesn't care. 

"Alright, we can work with it," Louis decides, and when he turns back around, he's looking at Niall. "We'll try to be quick, okay? So you're knee doesn't give you any trouble."

Niall looks angry, and Harry doesn't understand  _ why _ . He's even more confused by the way Louis looks a little irritated, too, as he pulls off his shirt and tosses it on the ground. Harry follows suit, getting undressed alongside Louis, and Niall just stands there, fully clothed. 

"Showering in your clothes might be a bit ineffective," Louis says lowly. 

Niall scoffs. "Louis -- "

"I'm just staying," Louis interrupts. 

Niall and Louis share a heated look, and Harry's got no idea what is going on. He's not sure what he missed, or when this tension between the two of them built. He doesn't want it to be there, though, and he wants a shower, so he steps forward and sets a gentle hand on Niall's elbow. 

"Are you alright?" he asks. 

Niall gives him a hard look. "I'm fine."

"Is it because your parents aren't here yet?" Harry tries again.

Niall scoffs and pushes Harry's hand off of him. He looks hurt. "Is it because of my -- no, Harry, it's not. It's not because of my parents. It's because you two are acting like this is some fucking joke, like _ I'm _ just a fucking joke, and -- "

"Hey, what?" Harry asks softly, furrowing his eyebrows together. "What are you talking about?"

"On the island, it was one thing," Niall says. "It was a comfort thing, you -- you guys didn't want me getting lonely, and I appreciate that, but you don't have to keep pretending that I'm, like -- pretending that this is actually a thing you want. We're home now, we're -- we're safe, so you don't have to keep doing that."

Hurt spreads across Harry's chest hotly. He didn't realize that that's all Niall thought it was. He thought -- what he thought seems stupid now, and he glances at Louis, tears pricking his eyes. He wonders if Louis it was just a comfort thing, too, or if he thought it was real like Harry did.

Louis takes a few quick steps forward and then he grabs Niall's jaw and kisses him, hard. Niall pulls back slightly, probably from the force of it, but Louis follows him and presses a hand to the back of Niall's neck so he can't get away again. Harry watches from the side, still so confused and still in need of a shower. 

Louis pulls back after a moment, and then he traces over Niall's bottom lip. "This isn't a thing that I planned on stopping after we got off that stupid fucking island," Louis says sternly. "I thought we all knew that.  _ Always _ , and all that."

Niall looks impossibly sad. "Yeah? And what about you two?"

"What about me and Harry?" Louis asks, confused. "We're still together."

"But you guys were happy without me before," Niall says. "Before any of it, I bet you two never even thought of -- of having someone new involved. I don't have to be. You two can just. . . go back to each other. I won't mind. I'll be okay with it."

And he doesn't _sound_ like he would be okay with; he sounds like he _would_ mind, and Harry hates how insecure and scared Niall sounds. 

"I love you," Harry says, no longer feeling content just watching this conversation play out. He's got to let Niall know how much he loves him. "I love the both of you. We said -- we said always. And I meant that."

"And so did I," Louis says.

Harry nods. "So, like. If you meant it too, then I don't get what you mean."

"I don't want to get in the way of you two," Niall whispers, looking down. Louis immediately lifts his chin back up, and Niall shifts on his feet, nervous. "I don't want to ruin your guys' thing."

"We wouldn't let you," Louis promises. "Harry's stuck with me, and I'm stuck with him, and now you're stuck with us, too."

Niall's eyes are starting to water. "But you don't have to."

"But we want to," Harry argues, and Niall must decide that he can let himself have this because he nods once before wrapping his arms around Louis' shoulders. Harry quickly comes up and wraps his arms around Niall from behind, and they must look like a right mess, because they're filthy and two of them are naked when Niall's still completely dressed, but none of them care. 

Louis and Harry take care of Niall in the shower as much as they can. Harry kisses him slowly and pets him softly as Louis washes his backside gently, and Niall looks so overwhelmed but happy at the same time. When Louis finishes his backside, Niall turns around and lets him wash his front side as well. ("Jesus, I did not sign up for this," Louis grumbles, and they all ignore him because they know he's just messing around.) While Louis does that, Harry grabs the shampoo off the ledge and starts washing Niall's hair for him. He gets lost in that for a little while, and he doesn't know how much time has passed before Niall is wincing and telling them that he needs to sit down.

"Oh, cheers," Louis scoffs, shaking his head. "You let me wash you all up and before you can return the favor, your knee mysteriously starts hurting. Like how that works." Still, he helps Niall out of the shower even when Niall says he doesn't need him to, and he helps him dry off. Harry watches them from the shower, now standing under the spray of the water. It feels weird against his skin. He hasn't had a shower in so long, the water pressure all new to him. 

Once Niall is all dry, Louis comes back in the shower with Harry, who's now shampooing his own hair. He makes sure to scrub at his hair and scratch at his scalp harshly, so that every ounce of that island is off him. 

Niall watches them for a little bit. Not in a sexual way, just. . . he looks fond and caring. But then he says he's going to go ask for some pain medication for his knee, and when he stands, Louis watches him worriedly. 

"He'll be fine, Lou," Harry whispers to him. They watch as Niall tightens the towel around his chest; he probably doesn't want anyone seeing how skinny he's gotten. Harry's noticed how thin they've all gotten before -- he's not blind -- but seeing it today felt all the more real, for some reason. 

Louis and Harry finish their shower quietly. They wash themselves to save time, and Louis presses little kisses to his shoulder every few minutes. 

When they finish, they get out and dry off. After he left, Niall came back for a moment to set some clothes on the counter for them, so they pull those on. They're normal clothes -- sweatpants, boxers, and t-shirts -- and Harry doesn't question where they came from until he realizes that they're too short on himself but look right on Louis, if only too baggy. 

"These yours?" Harry asks, tugging at the bottom of his sweats that don't even reach his ankles. 

Louis nods. "I think so. My mum must've known I would've protested against those stupid hospital gowns."

"You protest against everything," Harry mumbles, and he has to turn his head to the side and take a deep breath to try and not cry. He hates how hard they have to pretend like everything's okay. 

Like he knows, Louis grabs his hand and squeezes it softly. 

When they finally get out of the bathroom, Anne rushes towards Harry and hugs him just as hard as she did when she first got in. He hugs her back just as fiercely, and as he does so, his cheek pillowed against her shoulder, Louis wanders towards his own mother and asks her where Niall is. 

"Oh, a nurse took him to grab an x-ray of his knee," she says, and Harry doesn't like him being away from them either, but Louis looks instantly panicked. "He said his knee was hurting him."

"How long will that take?" Louis asks, frowning. 

"Shouldn't be long, love. Don't worry."

"I'm not," Louis denies immediately, although he very clearly is. It's even more evident when he comes over to hover around Harry, who then pulls away from his mum so he can tend to Louis. He doesn't make it obvious -- Louis likes to be the one taking care of people, not the other way around -- and just grabs his hand. Louis leads him to the chairs, and they sit beside each other. Anne sits next to Harry and pets at his shoulder. 

As they sit there, Harry has to choke back tears again. He doesn't even know why, it's just. . . everything's a lot right now. It's almost too much, everyone being here. 

Niall comes back about a half hour later with an ice pack for his knee, and as soon as he's through the door, Louis stands up and goes over to him. He asks him if he's okay too many times, and it worries Harry as much as it does Niall, who shoots Harry a questioning glance. 

When Niall's parents and brother finally,  _ finally _ get to the hospital, Niall breathes a sigh of relief before bursting into a fit of tears. He hugs both his mother and father at the same time, while his older brother Greg stands off to the side, looking a bit weepy. Maura cries louder than anyone has all day. Niall keeps telling her that he's okay, but she's inconsolable, and it gets worse when she sees Niall wince as he steps away from her to hug his brother. 

Louis and Harry watch silently from the hospital bed. The hospital staff rolled another one in here a little while ago -- "I reckon that one's supposed to be for me," Niall said, and Louis elbowed him -- but the three of them haven't left the original one yet. There's not a need for a second bed, except for that it gives the others a more comfortable place to sit. 

About an hour ago, Jay took Lottie, Fizzy, Des and Robin to their hotel a little ways away from here. Gemma was supposed to go as well -- Anne and Jay wanted alone time with their boys -- but she threw a proper fit and Jay didn't have the energy to fight her on it. 

Gemma went to the cafeteria a few minutes ago, and Jay and Anne try not to stare as the Horan family cry into each other's arms. Harry and Louis do, because underneath all those tears, Niall's happy to finally have his family with him again, and Louis and Harry don't want to miss out on seeing that. 

Once things settle down -- Maura stops crying eventually, even though all of them were certain she wouldn't be able too -- Niall sits with his mum at the foot of the bed and they talk quietly with each other. Harry figures they're probably talking about private things and that he shouldn't purposefully listen in, so he shifts around in bed and cozies up into Louis' chest. He focuses on tracing Louis' tattoos, and Louis tells him that it feels nice so he doesn't stop until he's accidentally fallen asleep. 

At four-thirty in the morning, Harry wakes up screaming, and he doesn't even know why. Whatever nightmare that was haunting him as he slept, he doesn't remember it as soon as he wakes himself up yelling. 

It still scares him, though. Waking up screaming is something he's never done before. And it scares Louis, too, probably because it was so close to his ear, and Niall as well, who was asleep in the other bed.

Once Harry understands the situation completely -- they got rescued, he's in the hospital, he had a nightmare, but everything is okay -- he takes a few steadying breaths and lays his head back on the pillow. Louis looks insanely worried, and he keeps asking Harry if he's alright, and Harry just nods once. 

"Are you sure?" Louis asks, stroking at Harry's hair. Niall's sitting on the edge of the bed now, and he reaches over to squeeze Harry's forearm. 

"Yeah," Harry says, nodding. His chest feels a bit tight and he might cry, but he's okay. He is. It was just a dream. 

"I can go grab a nurse," Niall offers. "Before Louis' mum left, she said that they'd give us anxiety medicine if we needed it."

Harry blinks up at him blearily. He's still so tired; he barely feels awake. He doesn't remember Louis' mum leaving, but then he remembers he accidentally fell asleep. And he's hungry. Really hungry. He barely ate anything all day. 

"Did my mum leave too?" Harry wonders, and Louis nods. 

"But I can call her," he says. "If you want her, I can call her, she won't mind."

"No, no, I'm fine. Seriously." His stomach twists telling him no, he's not fine, he's hungry, so he says, "Do you think I could ask for some food, though?"

Louis nods and smiles gently at him. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Your mum wanted to wake up when we ate dinner, but I told her to let you sleep." 

"What'd you eat?"

"Some chicken and potatoes and some soggy carrots."

Harry's stomach pleads for that, even the soggy carrots. He's so hungry that he's surprised he didn't wake up at the smell of food. 

Niall offers to go, but Louis pretty much _ demands  _ that he'll be the one to go, so they let him. When he leaves, Niall stays on the bed with him, and Harry grabs his hand. 

"Why were you sleeping in the other bed?" he asks quietly. He doesn't look at Niall when he asks.

Niall sighs. "Louis fell asleep next to you after dinner. I didn't want to disrupt you two."

"You wouldn't have," Harry argues. He looks up at him then. He needs Niall to understand that they want him, and that they want him to want them, too. "I'm blaming you for my nightmare. If you'd been laying behind me like always, it wouldn't have happened."

"Sorry, then," Niall says, and as if to show he means it, he crawls up to the top of the bed and lays next to Harry. Harry curls into him and rests his head on Niall's bicep. 

After a moment, Niall whispers, "Zayn and Liam have to be in London by now. One of our mum's probably told them not to bother us before bed, but. I wish they were here."

Harry nods. "Me too. I'm worried they're not actually okay, and that everyone's just telling us they are because they don't know how to break it to us that they're dead."

"Your mum showed me and Louis pictures of them," Niall says. "Recent pictures. Texts, too. They're okay."

Harry feels something give in his chest. Tears jump to his eyes, and he wishes he had been awake when she showed those pictures because a part of him still can't quite believe that all five of them were able to make it out of this alive. 

"So they didn't get stuck like us?" Harry asks quietly, afraid of the answer. 

Niall shakes his head and rubs at Harry's shoulder. "No, Haz. They were found after a week or so."

A week. Zayn and Liam were only lost and scared and away from their families for a  _ week _ . 

Harry lets out an involuntary laugh, and then he starts to cry. Niall starts to comfort him, but Harry shakes him off and sits up. He wipes at his eyes and the tears don't reappear, so that's good. He doesn't like feeling like an emotional time bomb. 

Niall seems to understand it, because he rubs at his back and doesn't say anything. 

Louis returns with a tray a few minutes later, and as soon as he sets it on Harry's lap, Harry tries to cram the entire sandwich into his mouth at once. He doesn't even know why. It's not like they were starving on the island, and although the sandwich looks good, it's not like it's a gourmet meal.

Louis grabs his wrists and forces him to put down the sandwich. "Go slow," he says softly. "Won't do you any good if you just throw it up."

"I know," Harry says, mouth full. He's chewing fast still, and when he notices himself doing that, he starts to slow down. "I'm sorry."

Louis rolls his eyes. "Don't be stupid. Me and Niall did the same thing." He presses a kiss to Harry's forehead and then twists towards the table near their bed to grab the remote. He stays on the channel it's on, even though it's playing an infomercial for a hair product. Harry's got a feeling they all have share the same fear: that, on one of the news channels, their faces will appear on the screen. 

Harry eats his sandwich as slowly as he can, but still, when he's finished, his stomach is twisting angrily. 

"Just go back to sleep," Louis says. "You should feel fine when you wake up."

And Louis' right, so Harry gets comfortable under the blanket again and cuddles into Niall's side. Louis drapes himself against his back, and Harry has to fight back tears. Only the night before were they doing this same thing, except instead of a bed and a blanket, they had a beach and Harry's jacket. 

"I love you both," Harry says, and his voice cracks slightly. They both snuggle up to him harder as response. 

"Same," Louis mumbles against Harry's shoulder. 

Niall nods. "Always."

Harry wakes again to quiet murmuring. He thinks it's Niall and Louis talking around him at first, so he doesn't open his eyes and listens to them talk. 

"They look okay. Healthy, I mean."

"They've all clearly lost weight. A lot of weight."

"It's not that bad."

"And Lou's got that mark on his forehead."

It takes Harry too long to place those voices, and as soon as he does, his eyes fly open. He sits up, just slightly so he doesn't wake the other two, and sees Zayn and Liam standing by the window. They're staring at them, so they see Harry move, and Liam curses. 

"We didn't mean to wake you," he says, and Harry wants to roll his eyes. That's not what he's worried about right now. 

He tries to be careful about getting out of bed, but he ends up accidentally knocking into Niall's knee as he climbs out, and he doesn't even feel bad because Zayn and Liam are  _ here _ . Finally, they're here. He's falling into their arms as Niall hisses in pain, and then he does feel a bit guilty, but it's hard to when Liam is holding him so tightly and Zayn is crying and laughing quietly right next to Harry's ear. 

Niall seems to get over it fairly quickly, because he doesn't take long to join their little group hug. Harry's crying again, and he's not surprised, and he doesn't even really care because he's missed them so much, and he thought they were dead, and they both probably thought they were all dead, too. 

"How are you three?" Liam asks into Niall's shoulder, voice tight. 

"Okay," Niall chokes out. "We're okay."

"Actually?" he doesn't sound so sure, and Harry nods. 

"Yeah, actually. Niall's knee is being shit, but besides that, we're okay."

Zayn's fingers dig into Harry's hip. "You're so thin now. All of you, shit."

And Harry and Niall don't have anything to say to that, because it's the truth. They are thin. Too thin, probably. Harry suspects a doctor is going to force them to cooperate today, and it'll probably be for the best. 

"What happened to Louis' forehead?" Zayn asks. 

Harry feels breathless even thinking about it, but he tries not to let it show. "He hit it against something when the plane went down. He was knocked unconscious, and -- and he didn't wake up for a few days. It was so scary."

"I'm so sorry," Liam whispers, and Niall shakes his head. 

"Don't be a tit," he says. "Not your fault." 

Liam pulls back from the two of them, and he looks awfully serious. Zayn keeps petting at Harry's face, and Harry doesn't stop clinging to him. Liam opens his mouth to say something, but Niall must decide he doesn't want to hear it because he says, "Harry cut himself, too. On a rock. In the ocean. Bled like a bitch."

It catches Harry off guard, and he laughs a little. Zayn pulls back and looks at Harry worriedly, and Harry shakes his head. "It's healed," he promises. He uses Zayn to ground himself (and Zayn immediately steadies him) as he lifts his foot to show them the scar on the bottom of his foot. 

"A rock did that?" Liam asks, reaching out to touch it. The skin isn't irritated anymore, so it doesn't hurt. It does tickle a bit, though. 

Harry nods. "Yeah. Bled a lot, like Niall said."

Liam and Zayn both cringe, and Harry puts his foot back on the ground. 

Niall motions to the bed, and everyone's gaze moves to see Louis sitting up, looking sleepy and teary-eyed. He gives them a tired smile, and Liam makes a noise low in the back of his throat, close to a whimper. Him and Zayn move quickly to the bed and they practically tackle him, and Harry watches with tears still running down his cheeks as Louis laughs brightly and wraps his arms around them both. 

Later on, the doctors do finally examine them. 

Harry's down a lot of weight. Like, a lot. He lost thirty pounds, and he knew he lost  _ some _ weight, it's just -- he didn't realize how much. He has yet to look into a mirror, but he still doesn't know where all of that weight could have gone. 

He's dehydrated -- they all are -- and they ran a bunch of tests on him. They took samples of his blood and urine, and when he asked why, they kind of just waved him with a half-ass answer. Harry didn't actually care why, but it still irritated him. 

Afterwards, he climbs back into bed with Niall and Louis, and he feels inexplicably emotional. He finds raw, kind of. And vulnerable. Like they took more from him than a pee sample. He doesn't know why. 

"They said we could go home soon," Louis tells them quietly. "Like, really soon. Unless our blood tests say we have, like, a jungle virus or something."

Harry's heart clenches.  _ Home.  _ "That'll be nice."

Louis nods. "Yeah. Bet Clifford and Bruce are sick of living at my mum's."

Another twist of Harry's heart. He needs to stop being so weepy. "I miss them so much, Lou."

"I know. Me too." He sighs quietly and flicks Niall in the chest. "Want you to come stay with us in London. In our home."

Niall looks surprised. Harry is kind of, too. "I thought you two would go back home. Like, Holmes Chapel and Doncaster."

Harry thought that as well, but Louis shakes his head sternly. "No. No. We're going to stay together, alright?" And Louis sounds like he really needs that, so that's what Harry's going to go. He doubts he'd be able to go long without Louis and Niall, anyway. 

"I was thinking of going to Ireland for a bit," Niall says, and immediately, Louis protests. 

"Just stay in London with us. Please."

"Lou -- "

" _ Please _ , Niall."

Louis sounds desperate, so Niall nods. He doesn't look happy about it, but he agrees. "Alright. Okay."

Louis looks content now. "Thank you," he mumbles, and he sets his chin on Harry's shoulder. 

Fortunately, none of their blood work comes back positive for any jungle viruses, so they get to go home about three days later. All of their families -- especially Niall's -- don't like the three of them being on their own in London, so far away from the rest of them, but Louis wants the three of them to stay together. 

Their mothers only agree to it on the condition that they're staying at a hotel close by until they feel comfortable leaving. 

Harry almost forgets they're famous until about ten minutes before they have to leave. They have a security team with them now, who got very angry with the hospital when they said they were unwilling to let them leave through the back exit. They keep saying it's against policy, but Harry's got the feeling that they want the crowd outside to leave, and they'll only do that if they see that the people they're waiting to catch a glimpse of are gone. 

"Alright, the car is ready," one of their guards say. "Harry, we'll be escorting you and your family out first."

"Why me?" Harry asks, scared. 

"Because you have the most people with you. As soon as that crowd sees one of you out there, they're going to be more alert, and they'll grow more desperate over time."

Harry can't help but glare at Gemma. Louis just has his mum with him, and Niall only has his dad. Everybody else is at the hotel. Anne was the only one supposed to be with Harry today, but Gemma demanded to come, and now Harry's being punished for it. 

"You'll be fine, love," Louis whispers, and Harry just nods and clenches his jaw. He'll be fine. He knows that. He's been through this hundreds of times before. And the car is only a few yards away. It's not like he's walking that far. 

He adjusts the sunglasses on his nose before nodding at one of the security guards, and then they start to move. There are three guards with them, and Harry desperately wishes there were more, even though three is probably more than enough. It's not like they're walking out into a pit of wild animals. 

Still, as soon as he walks outside and sees the first flash, he can't help but reach out to Gemma and grab her arm. He clutches onto her, terrified, and he barely makes it a few feet on his own before he's barely walking and it's more like the security guards are pushing him along. There's just so many people, and they're all taking pictures, and they're so  _ loud. _ Harry hasn't heard this much noise or seen this many people in a long, long time.

He has another panic attack in the car, and he's not quite ready to admit to himself that that's probably going to be a problem he has to deal with now. He's not even sure why they keep happening; it'd make more sense to him if they happened on the island and stopped when he got out. He's safe here, and he's home, and his mind needs to understand that. 

The three of them drive in separate cars, even though they're all going to the same place. Harry and Louis bought this new home in London only thirteen months before everything, so it's not actually been lived in all that much. They spent a few weeks there, here and there, but he's not sure it's going to feel like home as much as mother's would. 

It's alright, though. Louis needs them with him and London, so that's what they're going to do. 

The drive is long and quiet, and Harry spends it staring at his hands. He still doesn't feel ready to look out the window yet. He had seen enough of the world when he went outside of the hospital, anyway. 

"Mark drove the dogs out to our house yesterday," his mother tells him, even though she already said that last night when Louis asked about them. "He spent the night there with them."

"Okay," is all Harry says. He doesn't know what else she wants him to say. 

"Are you sure you're alright, baby?" she asks. "I know this is difficult for you. All three of you."

Harry shrugs and runs his thumb over the length of his index finger. "I just want to be home." He looks to her, frowning. She reaches forward and strokes her hand through his hair. It's so long; he showered again last night, this time by himself, and he was so tempted to find a pair of scissors and cut it all off. "What would have you done with our house? If we never came back, I mean. Would you sell it?"

He's pretty sure they would have to. What good is a house if no one is living in it? He's not sure why that makes him so sad. 

"I don't know, love, but I'm glad it didn't come to that."

He nods once and looks back down at his hand. Again, he's not sure what else he's supposed to say. 

Harry's car arrives to the house first, and he doesn't get out or look up or unbuckle his seatbelt until Niall and Louis' cars pull up behind his. There's only a few paps lingering around, and they stay in their cars with their cameras, which is surprising. He thought it would be just as bad as outside the hospital was. He wonders who said what to get that to happen.

He waits until Louis gets out of the car to get out of his own. Anne walks closely behind him, and Louis and him meet at the doorway. Louis offers him a small smile before knocking on the door. It makes Harry want to cry again. They don't even have keys to their own house anymore. 

Mark answers the door, and Louis wraps him up in a hug while Harry quickly side steps them to get to the dogs, who immediately ran to the door at the sound of a visitor. He falls ungracefully to the floor in front of them, and he lets out a wet laugh as Clifford jumps up on him and starts licking all over his face. Bruce is sniffing at him all over, tail wagging, and Harry tries to pet them both but it's hard when they're fighting for his attention and wiggling about like crazy. 

He's full-blown crying (again -- he has the feeling that's not going to stop any time soon) by the time Louis comes over and falls to the floor next to him, letting the dogs greet him just as enthusiastically as they did Harry. The dogs seem a bit overwhelmed as they try to say hello to both of them at the same time. 

They don't settle down for another twenty minutes, and when they do, they still don't leave either of their sides. Harry, Louis, and Niall just lay down on the couches at first, too emotionally raw to do anything else. Harry needs to be immersed into this slowly; he knows that as soon as he enters their bedroom, he's going to lose it again, and he doesn't want to deal with that right now. 

The living room is safe, and so are the couches, and the dogs seem to appreciate that Louis and Harry are staying in the same place. 

They lay in silence for about a half hour, and then Niall sits up and asks them where their guest bedroom is because he actually wants to sleep for a little while, and sharing a couch with Louis and Clifford isn't going to allow that. 

"Don't be stupid," Louis says, sitting up. He wipes at his cheeks and sighs quietly. "Just sleep in our room. Haz and I could probably use some rest ourselves."

Harry shoves his face further into Bruce's fur. He doesn't want to go into their room just yet. He wants to lay here, only for a little while longer. 

"That's three people and two dogs on one bed," Niall says, and Louis sighs loudly. 

"We have a King, okay, it doesn't matter."

Louis and Niall both stand, and the dogs get up as well. For a moment, Harry just lays there on the couch, but before one of them tell him to get up, he does on his own. He reaches for Louis, and Louis nods at him and grabs his hand. They don't mean to exclude Niall, but to Niall, this is just another house. Harry's not even sure he's been in this one yet. To Louis and Harry, they're finally home, and Harry has this awful burning feeling in his stomach because he can't remember what color the tiles are in the kitchen, or what the duvet in their room looks like.

They pass the kitchen on the way to their room, and their parents and Gemma are all talking quietly. Harry pauses to peer in the kitchen, only for a moment, only to see that the backsplash is a light blue. When he turns his head to look back down the hall, he catches sight of their microwave, and he doesn't remember it being gray. He thought it was black, for some reason. 

Louis squeezes his hand and they walk further down the hall, and then up the stairs (Niall curses under his breath every time they go up one) and then they walk a little ways away to their door. Harry's staring down at the ground, counting his steps for something to do, so he only knows to stop because Louis does. 

As soon as Louis twists the door open, tears spring to Harry's eyes. It's just -- when they did stay here, even for only a little while, this is where he and Louis spent the most time. Having sex, cuddling, watching TV, just being too lazy to get out of bed in the mornings. He lets go of Louis' hand and immediately crawls into bed --  _ their _ bed,  _ their  _ home, fucking finally. He presses his face against Louis' pillow -- he's sure their bedding has been washed since they used it last, or else it'd probably smell like dust -- and he tries to take it all in. He tries, but it's still all too much. 

Louis, Niall and the dogs all pile on, and it's crowded and they have to fight for the blanket (dark blue) but they make it work. At first, Niall goes to lay beside Louis, and both Harry and Louis immediately protest. 

"Harry goes in the middle," Louis said, frowning.

Niall rolled his eyes with a small smile on his face, and they moved accordingly. But even with Niall pressed up against his back and Louis glued to his front, Harry still doesn't feel like he's being held tightly enough, like he'll float away if they don't stop him. 

When Harry's chest stutters, Louis turns around and shakes his head. "Just sleep, Harry. Don't think about anything."

Harry reaches out and grabs Louis' shirt. "Why am I the only one freaking out?" he asks, and immediately, Niall and Louis tell him that that's not true, that Harry's just doing his best, same as them. It's probably true, and Niall and Louis are probably freaking out, too, but Harry can't help but feel like he's handling all this wrong. 

-

"And the others? How did their appointments go?"

Harry glances at Niall and Louis, who are only a few feet away, cooking something for dinner. Harry doesn't know what it is, but Louis seems to be unimpressed with how it's going. Harry was helping, and then his mum called to check in on him because he was supposed to call her after their doctor appointments and he didn't. It's not against her, it's just. . . it's already been three months, and he wishes they stopped having to go to the doctor all the time. This is their last appointment until another three months, though, so Harry's happy about that. 

"Niall's knee is still shit, and they want him to get surgery for it, but he doesn't want to. And the doctor's not happy with how much weight Louis still has to gain back."

Louis turns around and scowls at him. "I have a fast metabolism."

Harry doesn't laugh or smile. Louis does have a fast metabolism, but he also doesn't eat breakfast most mornings and he gets grouchy whenever Niall and Harry pester him into eating anything before noon. 

"They're healthy, though?"

"Yeah. We're all fine, for the most part."

She lets out a small breath. "Good, honey. That's good. And is Niall still planning on flying to Ireland next week?"

"I don't want to talk about that, Mum," Harry says immediately, because he gets all panicky whenever he even thinks about flying, and he's got no idea how Niall is okay with risking all of this all over again. Every time someone mentions Niall going back, all Harry can picture is Niall being stuck somewhere by himself, alone and scared. Harry keeps having nightmares about it. 

The nightmares haven't stopped, and neither have the panic attacks. They've let up a bit, although not all that much. Harry still wakes up screaming at least three nights of the week, and it scares everyone -- Niall, Louis, the dogs, himself -- and it's so fuckin _ annoying _ . Their therapist says he shouldn’t let it discourage him, but he's pretty fucking discouraged. 

Louis and Niall look up at him, probably wondering what it is Harry doesn't want to talk about. He looks back down and the counter and sighs quietly. 

"I'll call you back later, okay?"

"Alright, baby. And call your sister. She's worried about you."

He rolls his eyes. Gemma's always worried. He tells her he will, even though he probably won't, and then he hangs up. As soon as he puts the phone on the counter top, Louis asks him what it is that he didn't want to talk about, and Harry doesn't even try to lie.

"Niall going to Ireland."

Immediately, Niall shakes his head. "We are not talking about this again. I'm going, and you two are just going to have to deal with that. It's not fair that I haven't even been home yet."

And it's not, not really. The three of them drove to and stayed in Holmes Chapel and Doncaster for about a week each, and they afterwards, when Niall brought up him going home, Harry and Louis immediately objected. Harry doesn't like planes, and Louis goes a bit crazy whenever he doesn't know exactly where one of them is. 

Once, about two weeks ago, Harry was far back in the yard, playing with the dogs. Louis couldn't see him from the back door, and he hadn't told either of them that he was going outside, and Louis had a meltdown. He screamed at Harry, and Niall kept telling him to stop it, but he wouldn't. 

"You can't fucking do that to me," Louis kept saying, and eventually, Harry apologized even though he didn't  _ do _ anything. 

So Harry's not surprised that Louis is freaking out about Niall going to Ireland, and he's kind of mad at Niall for doing that to him. Niall's leaving for three whole weeks, and he asked Louis and Harry to come, but neither of them wanted to. 

"Liam's coming with me now, if that makes you two feel any better," Niall says. He goes over to the stove to stir something, and Louis glares at him.

"That makes it worse," Harry mumbles, and Niall just sighs. They've probably had ten arguments about this by now. 

"We've flown hundreds of times before, and nothing ever went wrong except for the one time."

Harry scoffs. "Yeah, and we ended up fucking stranded on a goddamn island for eight months.'

"I remember," Niall says coldly, and Harry starts crying, because that hasn't stopped, either. He cries all the time. And every time, both Niall and Louis come over to him and comfort him, even when it's over something small. Two weeks after they got back, Harry cried because there was a bloody squirrel in the backyard. 

It's not all bad. Most of it isn't, actually. Harry knows he has to stop focusing on the negatives, but it's hard. 

Niall, Louis and him grow closer as a trio every day. They love each other like mad, and that brings about fighting sometimes, but it's okay. They shower together a lot, and most of the time, it's not sexual. But they do have sex a lot. Almost every morning and every night, someone is making someone else orgasm and they have to wash the sheets far too often, because Louis isn't careful and Niall finds it funny. 

Zayn and Liam come over at least once a week. They feel so, so guilty, and Harry doesn't understand why. It's not their fault they got saved and the others didn't. And whenever Louis or Harry gets a little too touchy with Niall in front of them, they exchange these looks. They don't ask about it, though. Nobody does. Everybody silently accepts that it's the three of them now. 

Eventually, they face the public, too. Nothing more than a simple tweet from each of them -- they all just tweeted a red heart -- but that felt like a big step in the right direction. Touring seems impossibly scary right now, but Harry knows that he'll never forgive himself if he lets himself waste what they have. And he also knows that Liam and Zayn are eager to get back out there. 

The five of them are due to give an interview together after Niall gets back from Ireland. Their management wanted it almost immediately, but all it took was Harry bursting into tears on the phone and they've stopped demanding things since then. They kindly asked them for a date, and to get back to them when they felt ready. 

The day Niall is due to leave for Ireland, the normal weight that sits on Harry's chest has doubled, and Louis doesn’t say a word for most of the morning.

It's odd, because normally Louis tries to be loud and distracting when something's wrong. He tries to pretend like everything's okay, like it's all normal, and Harry didn't realize how much he needs that until he's not doing it anymore. And Niall's usually the quiet one; as of late, anyway. Ever since they got back, he goes for hours and hours without talking, and it's not like he's doing it because he's sad -- at least, Harry doesn't think he is -- so Louis and Harry don't mention it. 

Niall also has a tendency of never keeping still. He's always doing something to take his mind off of everything. Reading, games, watching TV, playing with the dogs, cleaning. Anything. 

"Can you please text me?" Harry asks him, even though he's already asked him to and Niall's already promised he will. "Like, before you board. And as soon as you land."

Niall nods. "Yeah, H. I will. Promise." He reaches out to grab Harry's hand, and Harry's glad that Niall doesn't think he's being suffocating or overly paranoid. "I'll be safe."

"You can't know that for sure," Harry says, and his voice shakes a little on the last word. It makes Niall feel guilty, he can see it flash on his face, and Harry doesn't mean to make him feel bad. He just wants to see his family and be back home for a little while; Harry understands that.  _ Louis _ even understands that, even though he doesn't want to. 

Niall gathers him up in a hug, and Harry presses his face against Niall's shoulder. He's warm. Harry tries to focus on that. (Their therapist keeps telling him that, if he feels himself getting worked up, he has to try and ground himself. His boys are about the only thing that do that for him.) 

"You'll have Louis," Niall whispers, "and you'll have the dogs. And it's only three weeks, alright, but if either you absolutely need me back home, I'll come back in a heartbeat, alright?"

"Tell that to Louis. Might make him feel better."

There's an offended scoff behind them, and then: "If you don't think I'm eavesdropping, you don't know me very well."

Harry turns to see Louis standing in the doorway, a cup of tea in his hands. Niall and Harry went outside so they wouldn’t bother Louis, who was silently watching TV in the living room.

Louis sighs and leans against the doorway. "Just have your phone on, please. And text me every few hours."

Niall nods. "Yeah, of course. I'll miss you guys too, you know."

"Wouldn't have to miss us if you didn't leave," Louis says, lifting his mug to his mouth. 

"Louis -- "

"I know," Louis says. "I know."

Harry presses his face deeper into Niall's shoulder. He knows, too. 

Harry's nightmares get worse while Niall's away. 

His panic attacks don't happen more frequently, so that's good; Harry would take nightmares over a panic attack any day. The nightmares are irritating, though. And scary. He hates that they scare him, but they do. He doesn't always remember what they're about when he wakes, which is probably best for him. 

Usually, after he wakes the whole house by screaming, he can go back to sleep after about ten minutes. Niall and Louis are more rattled by it, and Harry knows that sometimes, they can't go back to sleep afterwards. 

The times Harry can't fall back to sleep, the three of them cuddle up as close as humanly possible and pull the sheets over their heads. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they don't. Sometimes Harry cries, sometimes he doesn't. And Louis will complain that it's hot, and Niall will tell him to shut it, and Harry will just listen to them with a small smile. 

For the most part, Harry's nightmares are usually not too much of a disturbance. They're all affected by them, and they all wish they didn't happen, but they do and they learn to work around them. 

Tonight, after Niall's only been gone a week, he wakes up screaming like normal. And like normal, Louis sits up and turns on the lamp and he pets at Harry's hair and whispers to him.  _ You're alright, everything's fine, it was just a dream. _ And Harry nods and tries to focus on Louis and only Louis, just like he always does, but for some reason he can't shake the weight off his chest and he still feels nauseous after about twenty minutes. 

Louis sighs tiredly, and Harry frowns. "Sorry," he whispers, guilt twisting in his stomach. He turns towards the digital clock on their nightstand to see that it's two in the morning, and he knows that Louis probably just wants to go to bed.

"Don't apologize, love," Louis says, shaking his head. "It's just -- you seem all out of sorts. More than normal. I don't know how to make it better."

Harry lets out a shaky breath. "I don't know either. But it'll, um. It should go away soon. You can go back to sleep, I'll be okay."

"Don't be stupid," Louis mumbles. He presses a kiss to Harry's jaw and rubs his hand over his stomach. "Do you want me to call Niall for you? Talking to him might help."

Harry shakes his head. There's no point in waking him up, too. And he knows that it'd probably do his mind some good to hear Niall's voice, because ever since he went up in the air again, Harry's been having these awful thoughts about him sitting on an island by himself. But he doesn't want to wake Niall, and he doesn't want him to worry. 

Louis frowns and his eyebrows furrow, and Harry watches the scar on his forehead move slightly with it. He reaches out to run his thumb over it, and Louis watches him, still. 

"You bled so much, Louis. It wouldn't stop."

Louis grabs his hand and kisses his knuckles. "Heads bleed a lot."

"And you wouldn't wake up. . ."

"I did eventually. I was just tired." He offers Harry a small smile, and Harry doesn't know why it makes his stomach hurt. His eyes are getting wet, he can feel it, and he wishes it wasn't so easy to set him off into a fit of tears. 

"If I hadn't been holding on to you, you'd be dead. You would've -- would've sunk to the bottom of the ocean."

He can't seem to shake that. It's so startling to him. Louis almost died. He would have died if it weren't for Harry being such a coward on the plane and clinging to him like it was going to save himself. 

"I would've been all alone," he whispers, and Louis shakes his head.

"You would've had Niall."

And that's true. He would have. But that also does nothing to untangle the knot of trauma in his brain, and he's beginning to think that nothing ever will. He wishes, selfishly and not for the first time, that Louis and Niall felt as outwardly as he did. They feel everything Harry's feeling, they just keep it in better. Louis gets anxious and Niall goes quiet, but that all seems so small compared to Harry screaming at two o'clock in the morning and him having panic attacks in their kitchen for no reason. 

"I was scared for you too, you know," Louis says quietly. He's still holding Harry's hand near his face, and Harry folds his fingers down over Louis' thumb. "When you slept all day for that first week on the island. I was scared then. I thought your brain was broken, or something."

Harry laughs quietly. 

"And when you cut your foot," Louis says, "I thought you were going to get an infection. Like, a man-eating parasite or something. I was awfully worried then, too."

"Sorry."

"I'm just saying, H. We all were scared then, and we had every right to be." As he talks, he shifts their hands around so he's properly holding onto Harry's hand. "But maybe right now. . . maybe you don't have to be scared about those things anymore."

"I know I don't," Harry tells him. "I know that I shouldn't think about it so much, it's just -- you were bleeding so much, Louis."

A twinge of disappointment flashes over Louis' face before disappearing, and Harry knows that Louis' starting to think that Harry will never get over this, same as Harry. 

"Let's try to go back to sleep," Harry says, letting go of Louis' hand so he can turn the lamp back off. He lays down on his side (and thinks  _ oh my God, I want Niall next to me _ , just like he has every night for the last week) and Louis gathers him up to his chest. He strokes at Harry's hair and hums softly to him, and as stupid as it sounds, every time one of the boys sings or hums, it scares Harry a bit because it's a reminder that they're not going to be able to hide from their careers for forever. 

Harry knows he's not going to sleep, but after about twenty minutes, Louis does, so he doesn't mind all that much. 

The following afternoon, Harry finds Louis smoking in the backyard as he talks to Niall on the phone, and he frowns at him, disapproving. He opens the screen door and comes outside to join him, and Louis nods at him before stubbing it out against the ground and tossing it in his ashtray. 

"Where did you even get those?" Harry asks. 

"Found a pack in my sock drawer this morning. Lecture me later, 'cause Niall can only talk for a little while more."

So Harry keeps his mouth shut for now, and he settles into Louis' side on the bench. Louis puts Niall on speaker phone, and a warmth rips through Harry's chest at the sound of his voice.

Niall's trip gets cut short by five days, and it's because of Harry. 

Well, technically, it's because of Louis, but Harry's the one who had texted Niall and asked him to come home early.  _ He's not doing well ni _ , he sent Niall, just after Louis feel asleep in Harry's lap after crying hysterically because Niall didn't answer his phone. He knew how ridiculous he was being, and Harry kept telling him that it was okay, that nobody was going to judge him for wanting his boyfriend back and close by. 

_ how bad ? _ Niall asked. 

_ don't know if my heart can take watching him like this for the next five days. _

So Niall booked a plane ticket (and Harry pretended as best as he could like his heart didn't sink at that) and he came home early, and Louis hasn't left his side since. He's trying not to make it obvious, but it is anyway. 

"Should've told me he was this bent up sooner," Niall tells him later that night, when Harry and Niall are brushing their teeth in the bathroom. Louis' letting the dogs out for the night, so they have a rare moment to themselves. 

"We both were, but, like." Harry shrugs, and then leans down to spit in the sink. "You were spending time with your parents. Neither of us wanted to ruin that for you."

Niall's quiet for a moment as he finishes brushing his teeth and spits in the sink beside Harry. He washes out his mouth, and once he wipes off the toothpaste on his face, he looks up at Harry guiltily. "Lou told me your nightmares got worse, and that you were having more panic attacks, but, like. I don't know. I thought he was in the right mindset to take care of you, so I wasn't too worried about it."

"He took care of me," Harry promises. "And I took care of him."

There's movement heard from their bedroom, so Harry quiets down and doesn't say anything else. Niall seems to understand, because he doesn't say anything more about it either. 

They think they're in the clear, but once Niall and Harry crawl into bed, in their respective places, Louis gives them a small smile. "We're doing the best we can. And we've got each other, so, like. We'll be fine."

Harry nods. Ever since their plane went down, he's been unsure of a lot of things, but he's never been unsure of the fact that they'll get through this, and they'll get through it together. 

-

They go back on tour a year later. 

Harry desperately wanted a little more time, but management was getting impatient and they were losing their window to profit off the pity card, which -- alright, they're not wrong, but he didn't particularly like them being so blunt about it.

Niall seems to be indifferent about it, and the only people who really seem to be able to see through his bullshit are Louis and Harry. Zayn and Liam probably can as well, and they're just ignoring it to protect themselves. You don't see how pale his face gets or how his hands shake whenever they're in meetings talking about ticket sales and merchandise unless you're paying close attention. He promises Louis and Harry that he can handle it, so they try not to be too needling. 

Louis seems to be handling it alright, probably the best out of the three of them. The idea of living out of Harry and Niall's pockets is gold to him, so he's not all that bothered. He's always, always compartmentalized better than the rest of them, anyway. 

And Harry, who is always going to be the weak-link, even if Niall and Louis promise him that's not true, is kind of freaking out about it all. He handles the UK leg of the tour fine, but as soon as they have to fly to Australia, his brain goes haywire with anxiety. He doesn't even try to hide it, and he lets them all coddle him as they board their private jet -- yes, it's terrible for the environment, but Harry can't go around having panic attacks on a crowded plane, can he -- and as they sit down.

They all squeeze into the same section, and Niall and Louis sit right up next to him, like protectors. They don't talk to him, because talking about it makes it worse, and they allow Harry to put his head down in his arms on the table and try to relax. He puts his earbuds in and plays music to try and calm himself down, and Louis gave him a few Xanax pills before the flight to try and ease his anxiety. They don't seem to be helping all that much. 

His attempts are probably pointless, but he tries anyway. 

That's how he stays for about three hours. He just sits there with his head down and tries to push down the nausea and stress. He doesn't even really let himself think, because whenever he thinks, it always leads him to what if's and he can't stand that. (He tries not to come up with a plan that he'd try to execute if the plane were to fall. The only thing he promises himself is that, if it goes down again, he'll cling to Louis and Niall both this time.) So he sits there, mind-blank as he just sings along in his head to the music he's singing to. It gets boring after about twenty minutes, but it's what he has to do. 

It helps that he can hear the other boys over the speakers. They're laughing and they're talking and Harry doesn't exactly know how. He knows all of them are nervous about flying now -- of fucking course they are -- but he seems to be the only one unable to cope with it. And Niall keeps a firm hand on his thigh, and Louis' hands move a lot, but he's always touching him in some sort of way. At one point, there's a hand petting softly at his hair, and he thinks it's Louis, but it turns out to be Liam. 

About three hours in, Louis forces him to eat something, and Harry doesn't protest. He wants to -- he's not hungry, and even if he was, his stomach hurts, so he's not in the mood to eat -- but he knows Louis won't care how much he begs or pouts or how many times he promises him he'll do it later. So Harry accepts the small salad the flight attendant gives to him, and he keeps his head down, and he only focuses on his food. 

After he finishes it, he goes back to putting his head down. Now he can focus on how shitty his stomach feels, because it's demanding his attention and he probably couldn't ignore it if he tried. 

Five hours in, he gives up on trying to avoid going pee and quietly asks Louis to get up so he can get out. Louis looks beyond nervous, but he moves out of the way. 

Harry doesn't look up once on his way to the bathroom, too fucking terrified that he'll see water through the window and panic. 

When he comes back, they all look at him sadly. He tries not to let it bother him. 

"We're going to play a game of cards, H," Zayn says hopefully. "Want to join?"

Harry shakes his head silently and settles back into his position. He ends up falling asleep somehow, which is probably a good thing because it kills six more hours. He wakes up to Louis bitching about something, and he goes all soft-eyed when he sees he woke Harry, but Harry shakes his head and presses a kiss to Louis' arm. 

He has to piss again, and he manages to ignore it for about an hour before he can't ignore it any longer. Again, he asks Louis to move, and Louis rolls his eyes just to be an ass and gets up for him. He's barely halfway down the aisle when he accidentally unplugs his earbuds, and as he looks up after he plugs them back in, he accidentally catches sight of the windows, and of course, they're above water. 

Someone probably should've pulled the covers down to avoid this, Harry thinks numbly as he feels the panic starts to rise in his throat. He tries his hardest to push it down, to remember the breathing techniques their therapist taught him, but it seems to do fuck all because he's in the exposition of a panic attack by the time he gets to the bathroom and locks the door. 

_ Deep breaths, don't think about it, it's just water, it's just water. Shit, don't think about it.  _

He sits down on the toilet and puts his head in his hands. He counts to ten, and when that doesn't work, he goes back to zero and counts to twenty. That doesn't work either, so he stands quickly and splashes water on his face. The sting of the cold does something, but the little impact it has on him is immediately canceled out as the sight of Louis' bleeding forehead plasters itself to the front of his skull, demanding his attention. 

He loses himself after that. He's barely got any idea what he's doing or thinking; all he knows that, after how many minutes it takes for them to get worried about him, there's a knock on the door and then Niall and Louis are there, even when Harry doesn't remember unlocking the door. He's not focusing on anything other than trying to breathe, so he doesn't process them leading him to a chair and sitting him down until he catches sight of the window again, and really, someone should put down the shades. 

Niall does, after he sees the way Harry flinches away from it. Distantly, Harry processes that Zayn gets up to pull down the rest of the windows’ shades. 

"Breathe, Harry," Louis says, like it's the easiest thing in the world. All Harry can think is,  _ your face looked so much different when he it was covered in blood _ . "H, try not to think about it. Don't fight it. Just breathe."

He comes off of it, eventually. It feels like forever, and it feels like he's dying, but in reality, it only lasts for four or five minutes, and there's not an actual possibility that he'd die. He's pretty sure, anyway. 

"I'm sorry," Harry says, voice hoarse, as he reaches forward to wrap his arms around Louis' neck. His armpits feel a little sweaty, which annoys him; they're barely halfway done with this flight, and he doesn’t want to smell like sweat.

Louis rubs his hand over Harry's back. "Don't apologize. Just come sit down."

Zayn and Liam look guilty as the three of them take their seats again, and Harry lets out a small, tired sigh before putting his head back down on his arms against the table. He has a headache now, but he plays the music anyway. 

The plane rides get easier, over time. 

He still gets anxious and nauseous, and he had a small panic attack on the flight from Australia to North America, but after the flight to Australia, Harry feels able to do more than force himself to become numb on plane rides. He talks to the others, and he plays their stupid card games, even when none of them follow the rules, and he cuddles into Louis or Niall whenever he falls asleep instead of falling asleep with his head down. 

The shows make it worth it. At least, that's what he tells himself, anyway. If he were to be completely honest, he'd admit that he is going to try and delay the next tour as much as possible. 

Backstage before a show in Detroit, Niall comes up behind Harry and wraps his arms around his waist. Harry twists to press a gentle kiss to his lips, and Niall smiles at him and kisses his nose. The other two are behind them, and Louis, Niall, and Harry have all agreed that they won't be so touchy with Niall around the others, mostly because it leaves room for them to ask about something the three of them don't feel the need to discuss. But Harry can't help himself sometimes, the same way the others can't, either. 

Niall squeezes his hips before leaving -- he says something about finding Louis, and Harry watches him go with a slight limp -- and Liam looks at him, eyebrows furrowed. 

"So, like. That's a thing?" he asks. "The three of you? I mean, I figured, and I obviously don't care if it is, but. . . is it?"

Harry just nods, and Liam gives him a smile. "Alright," Liam says. "Cool, then."

The show goes well, just like the rest of them have. Apparently, getting stranded on an island for eight months isn't enough to ruin your stage presence. He's grateful for it, grateful that he had something to go back to. And later on, after the show, the three of them are curled up on the bed in the back of the bus together, Harry in the middle like normal.

"You two still doing okay?" Louis asks, turning his head to look at them.

Harry glances at Niall before nodding. Niall nods, too. Louis hums. 

"Good. Just checking in."

Harry nuzzles closer into Louis' side. "And what about you? Are you alright?"

Louis nods. "Yeah. I'm alright."

"Love you," Niall says, and Harry feels a warmth spread through his chest. "Love you both."

"Same," Louis says quietly. Harry can't help the smile that cuts his face in half. 

"Always," Harry whispers.

They squish into each other that much closer, and Harry was wrong earlier when he said that the shows made everything else worth it. That's not true.  _ This _ \-- _ them _ \-- is what makes everything worth it.

  
  



End file.
